


From Tucson to Phoenix

by wolf1Ez



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Assassin!AU, F/F, Grief, No true good guys, Overwatch and talon are a thing now, Trans Female Character, criminal!au, missing people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolf1Ez/pseuds/wolf1Ez
Summary: Amelie 'Widowmaker' Guillard. Hitwoman. Bounty: 175k US dollars. Wanted DOA.Lena 'Tracer' Oxton. Smuggler. Bounty: 4.5k US dollars.Fareeha Amari has been missing for nearly a year, whether she was abducted, killed, or on the run, no one knows for sure. Which is why Lena Oxton strikes a deal with the Widowmaker to help her find her friend lost or dead at the hands of some of the most ruthless criminals of the underground. She fully accepts the consequences that come with enlisting the help of the most deadly and infamous assassin of the crime syndicate, of which include a car chase, way too many guns, and former mob bosses out for blood.A/N March ‘19: Rework scheduled June 2019. On hiatus until then





	1. Like Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be an absolute beast to write and is well over like 5 chapters and will definitely take a while to write all out lol. But, hey, it's gonna be one hell of a learning experience. This is such an AU tho, like overwatch who?? talon who?? but whatever hope you stick around for the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"A criminal organization or gang can also be referred to as a mafia, mob, or crime syndicate; the network, subculture, and community of criminals may be referred to as the underworld.[2] "_

It was a particularly miserable summer evening in London, Britain. Cloud coverage had spanned over three cities and the humidity was beyond unbearable. But despite the weather, Amelie and her rifle favored cloudy, gloomy skies. It was perfect for both her brooding and quick assassinations. Like an invisible storm, Sombra had once put it, where the last thing her victims heard was the haunting roar of her rifle.

“Don’t forget, 13,000 dollars for this one, Widowmaker,” an eager voice in her head sings brightly, “An extra couple thousand if he suffers from it, too.”

“Duly noted, Sombra.” Amelie murmurs, closing in on the target for that month. She was set up a few blocks away from her victim, but her scope brought her to about a foot away from where she was perched on the roof of some rancid motel. The receptionist behind the front desk barely batted an eye at the tall woman that stalked into the building with no belongings save for a black suitcase and deep scowl.

Her target was a middle-aged man who, according to a woman that had given them an anonymous call, abused his wife and two children. He had also happened to be running for governor and about to cheat his way into office with foreign aid.

He was sitting in an office chair as he chatted away on his cell phone and looked out the wide window. He had no idea someone had gone out of their way to hire a hitwoman just to make sure he wasn't going to ever see the light of day ever again. Astonishingly enough, it had taken more preparation than expected to kill a politician, but it was a learning moment for both Sombra and Widowmaker. 

Sombra having to make sure that Widowmaker could get away without any witnesses; Widowmaker having to learn how to kill a target from more than five kilometers away when her environment denied an easy, straightforward shot.

Amelie notes the strength and direction of the wind before she holds her breath to take the shot. Her fingers tighten delicately around the trigger, the crosshairs aimed precisely where their client had requested, and with just a twitch of her finger, there was a crack of thunder. 

The bullet penetrates the glass as guaranteed by Sombra, shooting clean through the glass without neither cracking nor shattering it too much. A pool of red began forming around the torso of the man's white button up. Amelie watches as the man looks up at the bullet hole in horror then drops his phone in shock. He attempts to stand but immediately falls to the ground on his hands and knees. He frantically scrambles to reach for the phone from the floor--

Amelie fires again and the shot gives a ferocious _blam!_ , like a lion’s roar. The cell phone splits into pieces and scatters away from him. He collapses completely on the floor, one arm helplessly clutching his gut as he twitches before falling completely still. 

Satisfied, Amelie pulls away from the ledge and makes her way towards the fire escape of the hotel building. Come morning, news of a murder without a culprit will arise and local police will be searching the area for any evidence. But with Sombra's carefully crafted expertise, Amelie is more than confident that she can cover their tracks thoroughly. 

“Target neutralized. One shot to the gut. He'll die of blood loss before anyone finds him.” Amelie coolly says into the lapel of her coat.

She can hear Olivia whooping in her earpiece as Amelie takes a rusty metal ladder down to the alleyway, her rifle and its briefcase in hand.

“ _Dios mio, arana!_ I don't even care how much out bounty went up, we just hit our first million!” Olivia grins. “Your ride will be waiting for you as soon as you get down. A discreet, pizza delivery car; hope it’s up to your standards.” Amelie almost blanches at the thought of such a greasy ride but continues nonetheless.

“ _Merci._ ” she thanks, immediately spotting the Audi Sedan parked under the ladder.

“Code name is Corporeal, just so you know. I'll see you soon!” with that final note, Amelie tears the communication link from her coat and crushes it under her boot.

The door is unlocked and Amelie settles into the backseat. She pulls her gun to her lap and begins to disassemble her rifle. But the car doesn't move.

“Ah, Corporeal?” Amelie asks aloud. When no one answers, she lays the gun down in the seat next to her and leans forward between the passenger and driver seat only to find the driver’s seat empty. 

She huffs impatiently. Although she wasn't presently being chased, whomever Olivia hired was clearly unprofessional and left their client waiting. 

The driver eventually comes back, opening the door as Amelie settles against the back seat. They lurch forward and turn out of the alleyway onto the main street, heading north. 

“Thank you, Corporal. I was beginning to think you had left me.” Amelie says, looking out her window.

The car suddenly swerves and Amelie shrieks. The vehicle nearly crashes into another car before straightening and stopping at an intersection.

“Fucking hell—” the driver, a young woman by the sound of her voice, whirls around to look at who had broken into her car. Her eyes widen as Amelie quirks a brow. “Who… Are you?”

“I am Widowmaker.” Amelie growls, ”And what the hell?! You nearly got us into an accident!”

The woman’s brow twitches in return. “Oh, you're mad at me? I don't know a bloody Widowmaker!” the woman shouts. A car behind them honks and she tears her eyes from Amelie's to face the road. 

“Are you not my getaway driver?” Amelie asks bluntly. The woman only scoffs.

“Getaway driver? Why would you need a fucking getaway driver? I'm just a delivery girl.” the woman stole glances at her in the rear view mirror, her brows furrowed and eyes squinting at the sniper. Amelie only chuckles to herself and pulls her briefcase onto her lap.

“Delivery girl, are you? Where are you headed now?”

“B-Back to the shop? Look, if you're planning on killing me can you at least wait ‘til my next paycheck?” the woman begs nervously.

“Non. I’m not here to kill you. Just drop me off at the shop. I can get another ride.”

The woman settles down and taps the wheel anxiously. But she didn't say any more until they pulled up to a brightly lit pizza store illuminated by various neon signs. 

“So you’ve got a name, love?” the woman asks, but Amelie’s already climbing out of the car. The woman only pouts as she opens the car door to walk into the light rain. “My, that’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Lena.”

Lena leans on the top of the car as the gorgeous stranger spoke rapid French into her cellular. Amelie turns to face Lena and Lena perks up when their eyes meet and she waves fondly. But when Amelie doesn’t so much as bat an eye, Lena just shrugs and walks into the shop, leaving her alone in the rain. Amelie watches her until she was in the building before she returns to her phone.

Amelie hangs up after affirmation from Olivia and waits for her actual driver as the rain gradually makes its descent. Ah, London... She doesn’t have to wait long before another delivery car, identical to Lena’s, pulls up to Amelie. The sniper glances into the shop, spotting the brunette behind a cash register. She smirks and mouths a single word before slipping inside and speeding off without a trace.

Lena watches as the car disappears from view. Her lips purse at the thought of what the woman mouthed at her. Emily. Or Amy Lee. Or something akin to that. She didn’t give it much thought until a large hand clasps on her shoulder and Lena jumps out of her skin in surprise.

“Christ, Winston!” Lena gasps, twirling around to face her friend. The man only grins and pats her shoulder fondly.

“Ah, sorry, Lena. Just wanted to tell you we’re closing up in a few.” he points to the window, towards the now empty street. “Who was your friend?”

“I… Just an old friend. Never thought I’d ever see her again.” Lena lies. Winston seems to accept the story and leaves to walk into the kitchen.

“Well, I hope she didn’t stop you from making that delivery!” he calls out from the back. Lena only reassures him that she didn’t interfere with the order.

“Very well,” he says. “May as well get your things together now, I’m calling it a night.” Lena nods and opens the cash register to count the profit made that night...

Somewhere in northern London, a tall woman steps out from a delivery car carrying nothing but her coat and a large briefcase in one arm. Amelie thanks her driver with a hefty tip before stepping into the luxurious hotel. She receives a few curious glances from other guests and staff as she signs in but none are bothered enough to say anything to her. 

After being given her key card, Amelie walks onto the elevator headed for the 12th floor. Her phone buzzes and answers it, only to be greeted by a soft Spanish voice.

“Guess who just scored us lunch for the next year for ‘killing’ a dude?” Amelie could almost see Olivia's ridiculous grin through the phone.

“Congrats, _cherie_.” Amelie says as the elevator dinged. “Where shall we meet next?"

Olivia hums, clicking away on her computer and typing up loose ends. “How’s Kingston, Canada? Oh! We may be able to get a few clients, I know a guy who could get us some odd jobs around town./p>

Amelie unlocks the door to her room with the swipe of a card before collapsing on the single bed. The briefcase and coat lay unceremoniously on the floor next to her, the phone still pressed to her cheek. 

“We’ll talk later, Sombra. I had a run in with some Brit and, frankly, I’m exhausted.”

“Oooh,” Olivia coos eagerly, “You’re spilling tomorrow.”

“I will. Goodbye, Sombra.” 

“Later, Widow.” 

Tossing the phone on the floor with the briefcase, Amelie pulls the covers over herself before falling asleep.

Back at the pizza place, Lena was locking up the shop before following Winston out towards the small parking lot placed left of the building. She waves at her friend before climbing into her own vehicle. But a chill suddenly races up her spine and Lena quickly turns around. When she finds the seats in the back empty, she heaves a sigh in relief to herself. Shaking her head from her paranoia, she finally the engine with the flick of her keys. The car chokes to life and putters off into the night.

“Amelie, huh?” Lena murmurs to herself as she comes to a stop at a red light. She knows that name from somewhere and couldn’t help but grin to herself. She just came in contact with the most infamous hit woman of the criminal underground. 

Damn unfortunate she had caught Lena off guard; she would have turned her in a heartbeat for the crazy bounty. But it was never meant to be, Lena muses silently as she pulls up to her apartment building.

Hopefully their next meeting is a little more graceful.


	2. mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Organized crime is a category of transnational, national, or local groupings of highly centralized enterprises run by criminals who intend to engage in illegal activity, most commonly for money and profit. Some criminal organizations, such as terrorist groups, are politically motivated."

Kingston doesn’t have much to offer aside from the scenery and various tourist traps. But they weren’t here for the landscape, it was for the particular bars in downtown.

It's just an hour past noon when Amelie orders another glass of red wine. Olivia eyes her like the French woman she is before throwing back another shot of whatever Amelie ordered for her. It’s bitter and strong but gives her the buzz she needs. 

“Holy shit, Amelie.” Olivia cringes, feeling the alcohol slide down her throat like fire. She raises a palm when Amelie called for the bartender to order another shot. ”No more, please.”

Amelie has the audacity to scoff and quips,”Lightweight.”

She pouts. “You're trying to kill me aren't you,” Olivia rasps, “Testing my pride and pushing me over the edge.”

“If I were, I’d make it much more quickly.”

“Cruel, cruel woman,” Olivia croons as Amelie nurses her glass of wine. But she suddenly perks up and gives her companion a sly sidelong glance that Amelie catches instantly. “By the way, you never told me what happened back in Britain. With that run in with that British woman.”

Amelie only hums and looks down into her half-empty glass. She had anticipated this conversation sooner or later.

“There was a car parked where you had said it was but it was an actual delivery car. She drove me back to a shop where I was picked up by _your_ driver.”

Olivia grins smugly at her, “Ohoho, was she cute?” 

Amelie mulls it over for less than a minute. “For an English woman, I’ll give her a solid six out of ten.”

“Ooo! A six?” she raises a curious brow. “She must’ve had a cute accent or something to go with that, did she?”

Amelie finishes off her drink and waves for the bartender to fetch their check. “Perhaps. Her accent was awful and it was too dark for me to get a good look at her face, but she did have a cute, how do you say, _fesses_.”

Olivia howls with laughter as Amelie only smirks and hands back the check to the bartender with a hefty tip as well. She and Olivia can afford a measly 30% tip, especially after last week. The two women leave the posh bar and out into the busy downtown streets of Kingston, Canada. The architecture and cobblestone streets were familiar to Amelie but not so much to her partner. Amelie turns to ask Olivia where she would like to go for an actual lunch only to find her partner in crime gone. She rolls her eyes and makes an empty promise to herself to call her later to make sure she didn’t end up getting murdered in broad daylight.

She crosses the street towards a smoke shop with wide and crystal clear display windows. Inside, display cases lined with fancy cigars and pens decorated the storefront. Amelie enters the store and makes a beeline for a familiar brand that was tucked away on the bottom of a shelf showcasing objectively better cigarette brands. As she crouches and inspects a box of Gauloises’, a light, cockney voice irks her. It’s muffled but it’s definitely coming from somewhere near the store.

“Alright, Ronny! Here’s the last of those Marlboros you wanted. Never thought a brand as shitty as this one would blow up, up North.”

Amelie replaces the pack and shifts over towards the vape pens to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the back of the store.

“You’d be surprised, Lena. Really appreciate you going down and nabbing these for me. Local cops've been on my arse recently.”

She peers into the alleyway door behind the counter and catches a head of wild, brunette hair. Of all places in the whole world—

Lena shakes her head and only holds out a stiff hand. “You know the price.”

Ronny, Amelie assumes, chuckles. “Of course. This should be more than enough.”

Amelie wordlessly makes her way towards the back of the shop, her cigarettes long forgotten. Was this woman some sort of international cop? Did she follow Amelie all the way back to North America? Impossible because Olivia made sure of that. Unless…

“Ronny?”

The man sets the crate of illegally imported cigarette on the ground to face the smuggler.

“Aye?” he grunts.

“Mind ducking for a hot second? Tryna see something inside the shop.”

Ronny ducks as he was asked to do so, leaving Amelie completely exposed to Lena. Lena tsks.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, love. What brings you to Canada?” Lena asks innocently. Amelie reacts almost instantly. She leap-frogs the store owner, pushes Lena up against a wall with one arm, and slides a knife under her throat with the other. Lena grunts as she strikes the wall roughly, wheezing under Amelie’s tight grip.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Amelie looks over her shoulder to find the barrel of a handgun pressing lightly into the tip of her nose. Within the blink of an eye, Amelie smacks the gun from her face. The force throws the man off balance long enough for Amelie to deliver a swift but solid kick to his head. Not powerful enough to kill him but more than enough to knock him out cold. All this while keeping a strong forearm to Lena’s neck and keeping her pinned to the wall. But the woman barely moves a muscle as Amelie subdued her attacker.

“Blimey, you’re strong. Got a lover to keep warm with these mighty arms of yours?” Lena taunts and Amelie refuses to play along with her game any longer. The blade returns to her throat in an instant, just barely nicking the flesh of her neck. 

“You will tell me why you are here.” 

Lena playfully blows a stray hair from Amelie’s forehead. 

“I'm here because I need your help.”

It didn’t take long for Amelie to connect the dots. 

“You know me. And you wish to hire me.”

“For free!” Lena chirps. Amelie’s grip tightens and Lena gasps from the pressure.

“Either that or I get every bounty hunter within a 100-mile radius knows your location.” she sputters out quickly, hoping the assassin would accept the lie.

Amelie growls. “Liar.”

Lena only smirks back haughtily. “Wanna bet?”

The grip on Lena’s collarbone loosens and her feet could finally touch the ground again. 

“You can’t act so innocent either, crook.” Amelie huffs, wiping the drop of blood from her pocket knife. Lena waltzes up to her and flicks the blade back into its casing. “You may be just a smuggler, but it’s a severe enough crime to lock you away for life.”

“I wasn’t saying that I was clean, love, just implying that you’ve got a ridiculous bounty for your head. I’m not the only one that wants to reap the rewards of turning you in.” says Lena. She makes her way to the back of the empty truck and hops on, swinging her legs.

“What is it that I can do for you then?” Amelie inquires. Lena fishes out her cell phone and places it on the wooden crate between them. Before Amelie could make a move to grab it, Lena snatches away as quick as lightning. 

“Ah ah ah, you do me a solid and I’ll make sure no one knows about our meeting.”

That accent was quickly becoming irritating and Amelie huffs. Sombra’s not here to bail her out and as appealing as it is to murder this damn woman, the consequences thereof would be more than Sombra is capable of covering up.

“Name the task.”

Lena’s playful expression melts away in an instant and it almost frightens the sniper.

“Do you know a woman named Fareeha Amari?” Amelie shakes her head and Lena continues. “She went missing a few months ago and I need your help to find her.” 

Lena looks up at Amelie, her eyes piercing her soul. “Her wife’s a friend of mine and it’s killing me watching the most beautiful and brilliant and kind woman in the world lose her sanity and will to fucking live.”

“Which is why I need your help!” Lena’s lighthearted tone returns as quickly as it had left. 

“But I kill -- you can’t hire me as some sort of sidekick.” Amelie argues. “And you're not even paying me to find a woman that's probably dead or just doesn't want to be found.”

“On top of that, I can pull some strings to decrease your bounty. I’ve got friends that can do that.” Lena offers almost desperately. “I can't guarantee it'll go away entirely but certainly I can get it to a more manageable number. Not even your friend can do that.”

Amelie heaves a reluctant sigh. It would be nice to not worry about bounty hunters on top of the police after her and Sombra’s head served on a silver platter. “Fine.”

Lena clasps her hands together. “Wicked! We leave today!” The brunette hops off the truck and makes her way to the driver’s side. The assassin looks at her incredulously.

“You’re not serious? I’ve got twelve other things to take care of before we can leave for anywhere.”

Lena peeks out the window, her wild locks fluttering in the slight breeze. “Oh, but I am. We ought to start our hunt as soon as possible! Time’s a wastin’!”

The passenger door slowly opens and shuts as Lena effortlessly pulls out from the alleyway and onto the streets, heading westward towards the nearest airport. 

\---

They were an odd couple. A woman dressed for the runway, clad in a dark purple blouse and black tights paired with a white scarf and pencil heels. Her companion, who’s significantly shorter, with wild brunette hair and brown aviators, wearing a sweater twice her size and skinny jeans paired with bright yellow running shoes. Neither carried any luggage when they checked in.

As they board the plane in first class, Amelie sends a text message to Olivia who finally decided to give her a call an hour ago. 

‘Got into something. A job.’ a brief, straight to the point text.

After a moment of thought, Amelie sends another text: ‘That damn girl from Britain has my hands tied behind my back. Says she can help with the bounty if I help her.’

Amelie reads the text again and grimaces when she thinks of all the implications it could convey so she sends another text: ‘Don't be lewd. See you in a few weeks or never. Who knows. You'll live. _Ah revior_.’

A flight attendant with a tight smile peers over her shoulder and Amelie resists the urge to glare and pockets her phone. She relaxes into the plush seats she and Olivia rarely get to indulge in as Lena settles in next to her with a neck pillow and earphones. Lena offers an earbud to Amelie. Amelie turns to screen in front of them that played some cartoon. The Incredibles II. 

Amelie merely shrugs her off and Lena pouts.

“You're gonna be stuck with me and probably be the last person you see if we die, we may as well get used to each other,” Lena says.

Amelie only scoffs. “I’m not getting myself killed on some field trip around the world. I've experienced worse, don't underestimate a hitwoman.”

Lena replaces the earbud in her own ear and faces the screen. “Not sayin’ I was love. Just implying that this isn’t some casual game of hide n’ seek.”

Lena adjusts her position, bringing a leg up to her face and resting her chin on top of her knee. 

“Fareeha’s done some things people the likes of you would murder ‘cus it's one less cop after your arse.” 

“Yet I don't know her. If people ‘the likes of me’ want her dead what makes you say she isn't dead?” Amelie counters.

Lena shrugs. “She's an incredible woman. And I know she's not dead. I don't buy the bullshit that she just went MIA.”

“Perhaps she threw herself off the grid in an effort to disappear.” Amelie points out. 

The sudden thrum of the plane engine starting startles them both as they began their ascent.

“If that were the case.” Lena continues, “Then why did she up and leave behind everything? Her wife and family and a job she loves doing and a squad that would die for her. She’s got more than enough training to take down an army and back up and connections all over the world. Nothing is adding up.”

“And if this woman was really dead? What's your plan then?”

Lena sighs and looks out the window. “At least I’d be able to tell Angela I've tried.”

“Going as far as to hire an assassin out of desperation?” Amelie asks.

Lena could only shrug again. “The world's a big place and I can't protect myself against whatever she got herself into. Blimey, I can barely hold a gun let alone shoot the damn thing.” 

Amelie leans back into her seat, ready to fall asleep in the warm, soft chairs. 

“But before we embark, we’re paying my friend a little visit,” Lena says.

“The wife?” Amelie asks, her eyes already shut. The plane reached cruising altitude and the turbulence has long passed.

“The great Angela Ziegler of Switzerland. Haven’t visited her in a while but I know she wouldn’t mind me bringing company.”

Amelie finally allows herself to relax. A renown yet uncatchable hitwoman and her partner, an international smuggler, on a vacation to the Swiss Alps. She couldn’t have thought of a better vacation.


	3. Find her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Contract killing provides the hiring party with the advantage of not having to commit the actual killing, making it more difficult for law enforcement to connect said party with the murder. The likelihood that authorities will establish that party's guilt for the committed crime, especially due to lack of forensic evidence linked to the contracting party, makes the case more difficult to attribute to the hiring party.”

The path up the mountain is nothing but steep. Amelie has to bring her knee up to her chest just to make it up the steps, but Lena’s far ahead of her, bounding over every other step excitedly like a puppy. Amelie is almost annoyed at her excitement but the bounty over her and Sombra’s head looms over her like a sniper and her target. She just bites her tongue and grunts as she climbs over two jagged steps. 

The path weaves around trees and over hills in the way before finally reaching a clearing of waist high grass ahead. Behind and around the clearing, the forest continues but it’s this open area in the middle that’s naturally bereft of trees and the clouds float above and sun beats down brightly. The entire hike, Amelie regrets agreeing to the field trip, and damns her lungs and herself for smoking until a little cottage comes into her view. 

It didn't boast wealth by any means. It stands at about four or five meters tall and Amelie could probably stretch her arms with Lena’s to span the front side of the house. There’s a little flower bed that blooms with healthy, leafy shrubs of flowers and bushes obviously taken care of under a careful hand, and a mighty birch tree looms high over the house beside the garden. As they got closer, Amelie could see a little bit of the paint on the walls is chipped and worn with age, but not grimy. The window panes were sparkling clean and she could see the amber patterned curtains hung behind it. The tiled roof had been done by hand, by the looks of it’s uneven and overly cemented state, and the same could be said about the walls. A chimney made of bright red bricks sticks out the top of the house like a sore thumb against the darker tiled roof, puffing out smoke indicating someone was indeed home. Amelie would have guessed that Fareeha and Angela built everything by hand themselves, from the roof to the red chimney to the walls and the flora and the cobblestone pathway that led up the mountain to the house. 

Lena knocks on the oak wood door and not a moment later it clicks open. And, by God, if Amelie wasn't already queer before, she definitely was now.

A small, blonde woman timidly opens the door, her blue eyes peeking out from behind the door and a few strands of hair. Upon recognizing Lena, Angela opens the door completely and greets her friend with a sunshine bright smile. Her hair was tied into a messy bun, held together by a thick, black hair tie. She wore a large shirt that hung over her thin frame with equally large plaid, pajama pants that were tied tightly around her waist to keep them up.

“Lena! I've been waiting so long to see you.” Angela opens her arms for a hug and Lena immediately launches herself into the embrace, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. The sight reminds Amelie of a mother and her child.

“I'm sorry for the wait, love! Just life came up, is all, but it's good seeing you.” Lena pulls away to get a good look at her. “Have you been eating and sleeping well?”

Angela sighs and ushers them inside.

“ _Ugh_ , you sound like my aunt.” the blonde frowns as Lena led Amelie to the kitchen. It was small, with nothing but a small dinner table with barely enough room for the 3 of them, set in the center. A refrigerator, stove and oven, and sink lined along the walls as well as a few cabinets above them. A single drawer, again by the looks of it, built by hand, was precariously shoved between the fridge and stove-oven. Another window was set in the wall above the sink that looked out into the forest and other mountains beyond. A tea kettle whistles impatiently on the stove and Angela practically pushes them to sit at the table as she prepares them each a mug of tea. 

“You've taken good care of the house. Looks brand new.” Lena says, eyes wandering the freshly painted walls.

Angela settles in across from them, her own mug cupped gently in her hands.

“Damn straight. I can't just do research all the time.” 

Lena’s eyes wanders back to Angela and squints at the prodigy. “Speaking of research, have you cured cancer yet?”

Angela only laughs amicably, “Oh no, not yet. But I've made some progress with the nanotech I've been working on. On top of fixing up the house every now and then with important doctor work, I've been busy, Lena. I've been okay here.”

Lena lets out a quiet and relieved sigh she's been holding since she and Amelie landed. She had been expecting the house to be a bit of a mess as Angela had the habit of letting her work consume her. She was glad that even without Fareeha’s constant pestering and coaxing, Angela took care of herself and allowed herself to break from work whenever necessary.

“So, your friend...” says Angela as she finally acknowledges Amelie with the wave of her hand. “It's great to meet you as well, a friend of Lena is a friend of mine. Unless you happen to be more than just a friend..?”

Lena chokes on her tea and Amelie cooly sips hers, unfazed. 

“Sh-She’s nothing like that—!” Lena explains hurriedly between coughs. “She's a hitwoman I hired.”

Angela laughs as if it were another joke. But another look at Amelie, at her cold, sharp eyes and finely clipped nails, at her calloused palms and scarred forearms, Angela swallows nervously.

“Why?” she asks in a shaky voice.

Lena looks down her mug and spoke softly. “I kind of hired her because I needed someone to help me look.”

Angela looks up at Amelie with sorrowful eyes and the assassin feels something inside her break from just the sight of those teary, blue eyes.

“You and I both know she’s out there, Angela.” Lena says and reaches out to hold Angela's hands in her own. “Amelie has connections I could never dream of having and it could help me find her and the skills to make sure this doesn’t end up a suicide mission.”

“How much?” Angela asks abruptly. 

“Huh?”

Angela stands from the table and reaches for the drawer nearby, shuffling through its contents. 

“I know hiring someone like that must costs thousands, and I have a few to spare. How much?”

“Non.” Amelie says tautly. Angela turns and looks at her with a sort of fierceness that shook Amelie. 

“She owes me.” Lena explains briefly and Amelie shoots a glare at her but doesn’t — can’t — protest. Angela bit her lip and stares down at the wad of cash stuffed inside the drawer. Instead of getting the money, Angela grabs the photos of her and Fareeha out. She had shoved them away months ago to help with the mourning. She tosses the photos on the table and walks to the stove to refill her mug.

“I don't have much to offer other than a few photos and details.” Angela mutters helplessly, dunking the tea bag into her mug. “I'm sorry.”

Amelie observes the photos Angela gave. She memorizes every little detail on Fareeha’s face; shoulder length, dark hair with golden beads at the tips, a little tattoo under her right eye, her nose was sharp and pointed slightly downwards, and her jaw defined and sharp. Her complexion is dark but not black; it’s a shade that reminds Amelie of desert sands and sunsets. She towers over Angela in every photo, her arms either around her wife’s waist or shoulders with a grin of the happiest woman alive. 

With the pictures Angela provided, Amelie felt that there was never a moment in Fareeha’s life where she has frowned or experienced a hint of grief. 

For reference, she pockets a photo of Fareeha and another older woman, presumably her mother. Angela returns to her seat with her mug.

“I may have a lead.” Angela says. Lena nods, waiting for her to continue. 

“The last time I saw Fareeha, was the day before she left for Japan. About ten months ago.” Angela says with a quivering voice. “She stayed there for months, something to do with the Shimada Clan. She couldn't say much -- she had emphasized that it was very confidential -- but she managed to get a majority of the gang behind bars or dead. Her boss was happy and she was free to come home.”

“Did she?” Amelie muses. Angela shakes her head.

“No, she stayed for another month to… Take care of some more powerful heads of the clan. But that was when she suddenly went MIA.” 

Lena worried her bottom lip, chewing off a bit of skin. The Shimada Clan wasn't something she had expected to have to run into. Hell, she'd rather fight some Yakuza guys if it meant she wouldn't have to so much as _meet_ a Shimada member.

“While Fareeha wouldn't have had many enemies, I do believe Hanzo Shimada, the head of the clan, is responsible for her. She never could arrest him since she never could even get into contact with him while she was undercover...” Angela trails off. 

“I know Hanzo, we used to work together years ago. We will find him.” Amelie says. Lena picks up a photo of herself and Fareeha from the pile and pockets it away for safekeeping. Angela collects the mugs and other photos, silently. 

“You're free to stay the night, you two.” Angela says, placing the empty mugs in the sink, her friendly smile finally returning. “It's been far too long since the last time I had guests. But only if you can.”

Lena shakes her head and grins. “We appreciate it, love! I wasn't really looking forward to climbing _down_ those stairs.”

Angela only laughs softly at the remark.

\---

Amelie adjusts the futon underneath her. Angela insisted that they borrow her clothes for pajamas and to rest before they head off to Hanamura tomorrow. Lena was grateful for Angela's offer but when she learned that she and Amelie were to share a futon, Lena immediately offered to take the couch in the living room.

“I don't bite.” Amelie had joked earlier while they were setting up their bed. Lena’s ears glowed bright red in response.

Lena was now next to her, scooted as far away as possible on her side so that her back faced Amelie. But despite Lena’s efforts, there was only about half a foot of space between them.

“If you think you will get a better night's rest without me, I can go to the couch.” says Amelie, only half heartedly teasing. Lena shakes her head.

“I'm fine. Just restless. And really warm.” 

Amelie reached over and rested her palm to the small of Lena’s back. Lena squeaks at the sudden hand to her back, but also the sudden coolness it brought. 

“Christ! You've got cold hands!” she yelps.

Amelie chuckles. “Shit circulation, my heart just can’t pump blood that far.”

Lena turns to face her companion. “Really? I'm willing to bet that it helps with the whole, y'know.” she makes a sniper rifle out of thin air and makes shooting noises. Amelie chuckles at that.

“It does. Rarely does my heart rate even pick up.”

Lena hums. They lay in awkward silence until Lena feels Amelie’s hand retreat and she scoots away again. But she didn't turn her back to her.

“How… Do you know Hanzo?”

“He was a hitman and part of Sombra and my… Business. He left when his father passed away and the responsibility of the Shimada Clan came to him years ago.” Amelie says carefully. “I haven't heard a word from him since.”

As Amelie spoke, she could feel Lena’s distrustful eyes stare at her. She waves her hand as if to clear up the invisible tension between them.

“You don't need to worry about him and I trying to murder you, cherie.” 

“I wasn't--”

Amelie sits up and leans over Lena. She immediately shrinks underneath her sharp gaze and Lena swore her eyes glowed bright gold under the faint moonlight that flooded the room through the slits of a parted curtain. 

Amelie leans closer and Lena shifts further into the futon. “If I were to kill you, I would have done it back in the alleyway in Canada instead of flying out to the middle of Europe.” 

“S-So why didn’t you?” Lena stutters, suddenly feeling very small under the gaze of the Widowmaker. Only then did Amelie pull back, throwing her wild mane over her shoulder. She lays her back flat on the futon, adjusting herself underneath the covers.

“You were cute. And after meeting your friend, I feel as though this is something that I can't reject.” Amelie draws her jaw tight. “Her eyes… Made my heart ache more than it usually does.”

Despite the comment and her burning cheeks, Lena chuckles solemnly at the quip.

“I get it. I get it.”

When Amelie doesn't respond, Lena assumes she fell asleep. She’s left alone with her thoughts until waves of exhaustion beat against her like waves against a cliffside, and she finally succumbs to her fatigue.


	4. shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nightlife is a collective term for entertainment that is available and generally more popular from the late evening into the early hours of the morning.[1] It may include pubs, bars, nightclubs, parties, live music, concerts, cabarets, theatre, cinemas, shows, and some restaurants.... Nightlife entertainment is often more adult-oriented than daytime entertainment. People who prefer to be active during the night-time are called night owls.[2]"

The flight to Japan was incredibly uneventful. Amelie found herself wide awake when they land, the sun just dipping right above the horizon. She jostles Lena awake, who had been peacefully snoozing the entire 5-hour flight. When they leave the airport, they are swept into the crowd, and Lena has to practically climb Amelie’s shoulders to rise above the crowd and hail a cab. Once inside the car, Amelie attempts to speak whatever Japanese Hanzo attempted to teach her all those years back but to avail. 

“ _A castle. Very popular._ ” Amelie says, the Japanese tumbling ungracefully from her lips. “ _Near Hanamura?_ ”

Lena resorts to her phone and asks for directions in broken English. The moment Lena says, ‘Shimada Clan’ however, the driver immediately began yelling at them. Amelie grabs the back of Lena’s collar and drags themselves out, Lena still trying to ask for directions as the car speeds off.

“Lena, you can't go around throwing around names like ‘Shimada’ like that,” Amelie growls. Lena pouts and pockets her phone. 

“How are we going to get there then?” Lena asks. “I don't know a word of Japanese and you can't exactly explain where to go either!”

“Just find a map and I'll get us there. You drive.” Amelie snaps. They find the car rental building, and as embarrassing as Lena’s attempt at Japanese was, the damn Brit managed to snag a girl’s number. 

“Ridiculous,” Amelie mutters, as Lena chuckles nonchalantly, swinging the keys around her finger and the clerk woman behind the desk blushes behind her hand at the suave foreign woman.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Lena winks at her. “My charm’s saved my hide more times than I can count.”

After renting a car, Lena hops into the driver’s seat and pops open the glove box in front of Amelie, brandishing the map found inside.

“Gimme directions and I'll take us there,” Lena says as Amelie snatches the map from her. She began pulling out of the garage but as she drove on, Amelie doesn't say a word. 

“Love, directions? Please?”

“I'm trying.” Amelie grunts. “I can't find anything here -- it's telling me that there's nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘there's nothing’?!” Lena says, narrowly avoiding a car. She leans on the car horn as Amelie scans the map again.

“I don't understand, the castle should be right here—” she says, brows knit in confusion.

Lena swerves left onto the highway and weaves between cars and trucks. Frustrated, Amelie stuffs the map back in the glove box and faces the road with crossed arms.

“Oh _merde_ , I'll just guide you! Take this exit here—”

Lena merges into the lane right of her and eases back into normal traffic. A few more turns and shortcuts, Lena pulls in front of a tall, dark castle. The steps leading up into the structure are evenly spaced but looked like a hundred steps from where they were parked. The arch stood intimidatingly high over them and Lena suddenly felt very small and before she could turn to Amelie to suggest that maybe entering the castle wasn't a good idea, she was already shutting the passenger door.

“You’re not coming with me?” Amelie asks, amusement clear in her voice by Lena’s sudden apprehension. Truthfully, she couldn’t blame her. When Amelie first met Hanzo and saw the castle in person, she felt nothing but unrelenting dread and intimidation.

“I’ll-uh- just keep the car warm, y’know?” Lena says nervously. “This just seems a little out of… My league, is all.”

Amelie just nods. " _Ainsi soit-il_. I’ll return shortly.” 

It feels like decades since I’ve last stepped foot here, Amelie thinks. Each step is so shallow that Amelie takes two at a time, and when she reaches the top, what greets her is a large, vacant sand garden. A limestone path leads to the center where there's a wide, circular slab of marble parting the sand. In the center of the circle is a small shrine of a single, skinny, peridot dragon. Amelie walks up to it and finds the dragon’s left claw holds a lapis lazuli orb very protectively. She rubs the nose for luck and continues past the garden, towards the larger castle beyond. 

A red door blocks her and she leans against it to even get it a crack open. It creaks dangerously with age and disuse and as Amelie enters, the smell of incense assaults her. She slides in through the thin crack and looks upwards, taking in the sight of the room.

But before her eyes can leave the ceiling, a very sharp prick pinches her neck and she's unconscious before she can register what had happened. 

“Brilliant.” is all she manages to mutter as a blurry shadow looms over her.

\---

In the car, Lena’s chewing at her nails nervously. Everything from the red arches to the sleek, stone steps to the tall, tall tower looming overhead set off a visceral hesitancy. It’s been almost an hour since Amelie went in and Lena’s instincts scream at her to go in and look for her, but she resists. She breathes in and holds it, weighing her options. 

She could wait outside, and Amelie either comes back with what they needed, or Amelie comes back with a gun to her head held by a Shimada. Or even better: Amelie comes back with a gun pointed at Lena with Hanzo behind her.

Or, Lena could just leave. Drive off to the nearest airport and get herself on the next flight back to Canada and return to her comfy delivery truck, smuggling drugs over the border. And give up the hunt without ever trying. 

Or

She could get out of the damn car and look for her. 

She whines to herself. Every horror movie she’s ever seen warned specifically against this. But this is the real world. Filled with merciless gang members, and assassins, and missing people that leave mysteriously for nearly a year.

Lena sighs and reluctantly climbs out of the car, but as soon as she locks the vehicle, she feels a sharp prick on her ass. _On her ass!_

“Bollocks.” is all Lena manages to slur before collapsing in a heap on the asphalt. 

\---

Amelie feels a whanging headache the moment she gains consciousness. Her sight eventually focuses and she could recognize her surroundings: the real Shimada Castle. Not the tourist trap she was in moments ago. 

“Amelie.” a voice says, intrigued. “It’s been a while.”

“Hanzo?” she wonders aloud, the voice is familiar but aged.

The man scoffs and sets his tea down on the shallow table before him. “Don't act surprised. I know you came to see me.” 

On that note, a man from the shadows dumps Lena’s limp body next to her and Amelie jumps. Lena’s chest is moving at the very least; so, no, she's not dead. Unfortunately, Amelie subconsciously thinks.

“Otherwise you would have come alone.” he leans to pour her some tea. “Why are you here? Where is your… Usual partner in crime?”

Amelie straightens and accepts the cup. “Business. She's just a getaway driver.” Amelie says casually, looking pointedly at Lena, “Business as usual I presume?” she gestures to the guards surrounding them. 

Hanzo chuckles. “Business never ended. Even after…” he trails off.

Amelie knows the story but she raises a curious brow anyway. “After?”

His grip on his cup visibly tightens and he scowls. “A rogue with some very powerful connections had turned in and _killed_ nearly my entire family. My brothers… I am certain none are left alive.” 

“I’m sorry,” Amelie says solemnly. Hanzo only bows his head and his jaw tightens. 

“I know you’re not here for a visit. An assassin like you can never risk a tourist visit in somewhere as populated as Hanamura,” he growls lowly.

Amelie casually sips her tea. “I’m here for the same reason you’re forced to rebuild your clan.”

“Fareeha Amari,” he spat but Amelie can see how much his eyes soften with reborn trust. “Were you hired?” 

Amelie nods. “Someone tipped me off that you may know about her current whereabouts.”

“She has a wife that may know more than me. Amari always made is apparent that she was very taken.”

“What’s her name?” 

Hanzo waves for a guard to refill the teapot. “She had given a fake name, but my informants has told me her real name is Angela Ziegler. A doctor.”

“A German?” 

“Swiss.” he corrects. “But I’m afraid I can’t give you a city to look for her in; her house is… Off the grid.”

Amelie pretends to make note of it on her phone. “Anyone else she might know?”

Hanzo hums, thinking. “I only know of one other. Mei Ling Zhou in Xi’an, China.”

“The Opium Queen?” Amelie raises a brow. “I thought she was dead?”

“That’s what she wants everyone to believe. But she is very much alive and well. Ever since she quit the cartel business, she’s been trying to make a life for herself outside of illegal businesses.”

“ _Hurgck_ ” Lena suddenly gurgles from her spot next to Amelie, startling them both, ” _Hnnnnn--_ You guys are having one helluva civilized conversation for bein’ assassins.”

She stirs and attempts to sit up but then collapses in Amelie’s lap, snoring softly. She grimaces and pushes Lena off, to which Hanzo laughs at the pair.

“Charming... Really, where do you find them, Amelie?” he asks in the tone of an old friend. Amelie can’t keep the small grin from her lips either.

“Ask Olivia, she tends to find drivers that fit my type. I’ll give her your number if you’re interested.” but the man only raises a dismissive hand and chuckles to himself. 

“No need, but thank you for the offer. With the sudden lack of time I have, I only wish to reclaim the clan before time for myself runs out. And for Genji.”

At this, Amelie reaches over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder but his expression doesn’t soften. Before Amelie can console him, a guard arises from the shadows. He says something a little too quick for Amelie to translate before he’s shot from the shadows and he collapses face first. A bullet hole clean through his head.

Hanzo reacts as his guards are rushing him and Amelie out. Amelie drags a half-asleep Lena along with one arm and uses the other herself with a pocketed handgun. Hanzo is leading them through the halls of the castle. She spares a glance over her shoulder and watches the instant where a guard following them falls, a shuriken embedded between his shoulder blades. His body is left behind and more guards take his position behind them to safely escort them out of the building.

When they reach the entrance to the castle, Hanzo opens the magnificent doors with a grunt. In the corner of her eye, Amelie catches sight of a shadow. She unceremoniously dumps Lena onto Hanzo and in an instant, she cocks the gun and fires three shots in rapid succession. The figure slumps over and Amelie moves to pick Lena back up, but another figure from above chances a lunge at her. Hanzo is too far to react fast enough and Amelie falls out the door, falling a few steps down. 

“Amelie!” he shouts after her, leaping over steps towards her, Lena inhaul.

The shadow throws a few punches at her torso and face, the bruising of her ribs spring tears to her eyes as she defends her face. The figure stops the onslaught for a moment to grab a hand knife, giving Amelie enough time to throw them off. The knife nicks her side and she flinches away as Hanzo jumps them and throws the attacker off her, pulling her to her feet. 

The pain all over her chest and the graze in her side flares but Amelie pulls Lena up and they race the rest of the way down to the car. Hanzo all but throws the door open for Amelie to shove Lena in the passenger seat. She waits for Hanzo to climb in but he only taps the side of the car. 

“Head southwest, towards Yokohama. I will meet you there.” he pats the car again and Amelie floors it, heading straight for the highway.

The streets are dark and empty, at the very least there’s the occasional car that zooms past them. It’s silent for the moment, and Amelie takes it as a moment to really try and frighten out what the hell happened. It’s not like the Shimadas had no enemy, anyway. Even sharks as big as Hanzo we’re still open targets, she reasoned. Her thoughts are interrupted by the heavy click of a loaded gun and she instinctively grips the steering wheel. Amellie gives Lena a sidelong glance and finds the tip of a revolver pointed straight at her. When the fuck did she get a gun? Lena’s vision may be hazy but she can make out the shape of Amelie driving the car.

She’s confused, Amelie thinks.

“Lena, we’re on our way to Yokohama, southwest-ish of Hanamura. The castle was invaded and Hanzo told me to meet him there,” she explains calmly. Lena lowers the gun and curls up on her side, head leaning against the window.

“Gave me a bloody heart attack there, love.”

“You’re the one that pulled an actual gun on me.” Amelie snaps back. “How long have you even had that for?” 

Lena taps her temple and winks. “A good smuggler never goes out unarmed.”

“Oh, I have so much to learn about the underworld,” she remarks, sarcastically. She veers off right and parks in front of a hotel. 

Amelie manages to book a room in her broke Japanese. But before she can ask for two rooms, Lena insists that they can share.

“A sudden change in heart?” Amelie asks coyly and staunchly, Lena shakes her head, not trusting her voice. They haul themselves to their cheap room and Lena flops onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. 

“It’s so… Soft.” Lena whines into the pillows but immediately retreats to one side when she feels a weight on the bed shift slightly. Lena laughs sheepishly at Amelie’s raised brow. She flicks on the TV and they watch some cartoon in silence. It’s only five minutes in when there’s deep growl. Lena bursts into giggles. 

“Ya’ hungry, love?” Lena teases. Amelie throws a pillow at her companion and Lena slips off, walking to Amelie’s side and offering a hand. From this angle, the light plays off her face and her eyes reflect with a shine that reminds Amelie of a full moon and a starry night. “C’mon, I was eyeing a noodle shop since we got here. My treat.”

Amelie accepts her hand and the offer with a quiet hum and lets Lena pull her off the mattress.

When they leave, the Yokohama nightlife is as promising as the Google Images Lena was excitedly showing her on their walk to the shop. People of mostly young adults were laughing and talking and taking pictures of each other and the brightly lit street food vendors. 

The sights and smells are foreign to Amelie but Lena seems to be having the time of her life, ogling over every steaming pan of freshly made food or aweing at every chef brandishing their food by flipping it in the air and throwing ingredients together expertly. They make it to the restaurant which isn’t too far and as promised, Amelie is sitting before a bowl of hot ramen while Lena noshes on a bowl of rice and seasoned pork. The TV on the corner of the bar piques Lena’s interest and she elbows her companion. 

“Oh hey! We were watching that earlier.” Lena says through a mouth full of food. She swallows it down with a swig of her beer. “You reckon the one with purple skin is the main character?”

“She has a big, black, spider tattoo on her back,” Amelie notes absentmindedly, watching the cartoon with her. “But the one with the orange goggles looks almost as interesting.”

“Haha! Look at them go!” Lena laughs. The two characters on the screen shoot at each other as they race up a spiral staircase. “There are no subtitles, you got a hint on what they’re saying, love?”

Before Amelie could translate, a body barrelling into the shop interrupts her and the _**Blam! Blam! Blam!**_ of a gunshot rings from outside. Two men fight to get inside, one is behind the other as he forces the other man into a chokehold. Amelie instinctively drags herself and Lena down behind the bar counter, hunger long forgotten. She doesn’t need to even look at any faces to know who they are. The tattoos covering the assailant's body are obviously that of a Yakuza gang member.

“Amelie!” the captive shouts. Amelie recognizes it immediately.

The hostage is Hanzo, fucking _brilliant_. Amelie doesn’t need to tell Lena just how shit the situation is when a Yakuza member has the notorious leader of the Shimada Clan held at gunpoint. Cogs are working behind her eyes and Amelie can’t risk whispering at Lena as she’s creeping closer towards the pair, taking cover behind cowering customers and flipped furniture. Amelie is itching to pull her gun out and chance a few shots at but she can’t risk shooting Hanzo. 

“ _Everyone, down! Someone will call the police and turn Hanzo Shimada in! Any money made from the bounty will be given to me_!” the assailant shouts fiercely, but Amelie only catches ‘Hanzo’, ‘police’, and ‘ransom’. Alone are certainly not a good combination.

Lena is a meter away from the pair and casts Amelie a look. Amelie only sighs internally and quickly stands from her spot from behind the counter. 

She throws a glass cup at them and the gangster fires at her, the bullet barely missing her and shattering the display case of alcohol behind her. The glass cup sails over their heads and shatters on the wall behind them. The shards fall over them and momentarily jar the man with the gun. Lena takes that as her cue to jump onto the man’s shoulders as Hanzo elbows him off and tries to pull the gun from him. 

He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, but Lena manages to wrap an arm around his neck with some difficulty and tries to pull his head downwards with her weight. It does little, but it’s enough force for him to lose his balance and stagger under her light weight. 

The attacker jerks himself free from Hanzo’s grasp, tearing the gun from the entanglement, and points the gun over his shoulder. Amelie barely has enough time to shout and Lena’s eyes widen at the sight of the barrel of the gun pointed between her eyes before it fires


	5. dull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to thank my betas for reading thru everything and making sure everything isn't shit lmaoo
> 
> btw, pls comment if anything seems clunky or if there's too much happening at once/reading this feels overwhelming! would appreciate it for future chapters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Japanese police, and media by request of the police, call [yakuza] bōryokudan(暴力団 "violent groups", [boːɾʲokɯdaɴ]), while the yakuza call themselves "ninkyō dantai" (任侠団体 or 仁侠団体 "chivalrous organizations", [ɲiŋkʲoː daɴtai]). The yakuza are notorious for their strict codes of conduct and their organized fiefdom-nature. “

Lena’s come close to death before.

And she can count the times it’s involved a gun and a head, on one hand. Altogether, however, she might need another hand or two. Her charm has earned her a fair share of phone numbers, but it’s also almost cost her her life for being so cocky.

 _This_ makes this at least twelve, Lena muses to herself a little humorously.

She barely has enough time to pull her head from the direct line of fire, and the bullet deeply grazes her shoulder as a result. Lena falls from the gangster with a shout, ears positively ringing and heart racing a mile a minute, and Hanzo takes it as an opportunity to tackle him out the door. People outside scatter and the panicked screams just barely muffle the roars of motorcycle engines revving speeding towards them.

Amelie rushes to Lena’s side, restaurant rags in her grasp. She ties them tightly around the wound, blood already seeping through it alarmingly fast.

“It’s not gonna do shit but it’s better than just your shirt.” Amelie grunts, applying pressure to the wound. It takes everything Lena has not to whimper under her palm.

“Okay, okay. Where’s Hanzo? Is he okay?” Lena yells, hearing still muffled in one ear, as Amelie helps her up with her good arm. They rush outside and catch sight of gangsters flooding the scene, armed with guns and bats and lead pipes.

The poor bastard immediately to her left gets the first bullet to his shoulder and collapses with an agonized scream. While Lena can’t do much with her injured shoulder, she has a mean right hook and manages to topple over two other guys despite being half their sizes. Wave after wave of gangsters roll up, and while practicing hand to hand combat is fun, Amelie can’t find a good window to escape from the flurry without leaving behind Hanzo or Lena.

She’s suddenly thrown off balance and a man raises a bat above his head. Amelie reacts almost instantly and delivers three kicks to his gut.

He’s dazed, but the bat still comes down and whacks Amelie’s bruised torso. It hurts more than it should and she can’t stop the tears springing to her eyes. It’s going to hurt like a bitch come morning, but until then, she can hold her own when everything clears up. Or until she gets shot. Whichever comes first.

She stands with her shoulders squared and looms over the attacker. Half for effect and half because she's pissed as hell, she cocks the gun and glares lowly at him. The last bullet goes to his head.

It’s a blunder of fists and shouts and Lena can’t hear anything aside from the occasional gunshot, but the blare of police sirens cut through the air like a hot knife through butter as cop cars swarm the crowded street. Yakuza members scatter, climbing onto abandoned motorcycles or just sprinting off into the night while the police round up the stragglers.

She can’t find either Amelie or Hanzo in the blunder and her shoulder has almost become too painful to handle. She calls out but her voice is quiet compared to the shouting and beating going on around her.

Suddenly she’s thrown to her feet; the assailant from the shop towers over her with a handgun in her face.

“I will not miss again.” he slurs, cocking the gun. Lena can’t scoot away fast enough and as she braces for the gunshot, the sudden thrum of an engine roars right next to her. She pries her eyes open to see Amelie driving the motorcycle straight into her attacker.

She says nothing, and pulls Lena onto the bike with a swift tug and speeds off. Not a second later, Hanzo is racing right next to them. He waves an arm, ‘Follow me!’, and Amelie revs the engine to follow after him.

As they weave past other drivers, leaving behind nothing but a trail of angry honks and shouts, Lena clings to Amelie’s waist for dear life. No one follows them, nether yakuza nor the local police, and for the first time in the last 12 hours, Lena feels relieved despite the dull ache in her shoulder. They don’t stop until they reach a shoddy town of dim neon signs from 24/7 motels and gas stations.

They park in front of a small building and as Amelie helps Lena off the bike and peeks at her wound, Hanzo goes inside to rent them a room. When he meets them just outside the main entrance, he holds out a pair of tickets.

“These will take you to Su Zhou, China. The flight’s tomorrow evening so don’t miss it.”

“Hey, it’s fine--” Amelie begins.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures and places them in Amelie’s hand. “Just make sure you get the job done.”

Amelie looks down at the tickets then to Hanzo. “Hanzo… Thank you.” The man only nods.

“I have no doubt the police will be looking for the three of us. Just lay low until the flight. 24 hours is all I ask for Amelie.”

She laughs and pulls him into a brief but tight embrace. “Stay safe,” she says. Hanzo hands Lena the keys to their room before walking past them to the bikes.

“I will. Safe adventures, Amelie.”

With that, he climbs back onto the bike and steers off. Amelie watches him leave before turning and entering the motel. Lena leads them to their room, and with noticeable difficulty, opens the old door. Amelie doesn’t immediately sink into the bed, as appealing as it was, and instead checks on Lena, who’s dressing her wound in the bathroom.

“You’re getting blood everywhere,” Amelie says, watching from the doorway as Lena hissed at the pain.

“Just help me, please? I can’t really raise this arm on my own.” Lena whines, looking at Amelie from the mirror. Amelie crosses the bathroom in two steps and collects the rags Lena carelessly tossed on the sink.

“Take your shirt off.”

Lena immediately deflates and her hands move to the hem of her shirt to keep it down. “Wh-What?”

“I’m not going to struggle trying to clean your wound with your rancid shirt in the way. Take it off.” Amelie says simply, grabbing a towel from the stack stored in the cabinet underneath the sink. There’s a bottle half full of hydrogen peroxide right next to it and Amelie uses the liquid to soak the rag.

“No,” Lena says stubbornly. “The shirt stays on.”

“Don’t make this difficult. I want to go to bed but you need help with that.” she looks pointedly to her still bleeding shoulder.

“Just give me the towel--” Lena reaches for the rag but Amelie pulls away.

“Let me help you.” Amelie insists.

“It’s fine!” Lena shouts, shoving Amelie. The pain in her shoulder flares and she lets out a colorful string of curses, clasping a hand gingerly around the wound. “Just… Gimme the rag.”

Amelie only rolls her eyes and hands her the peroxide soaked towel. She watches in amusement as Lena takes a deep breath, reaching under the hem of her shirt and snaking the rag between her breasts to her wound, and presses it to her shoulder. It really fucking stings, is all Lena can think as she presses her nails into her palm and clenches her jaw. Lena pulls away from the rag delicately then looks to Amelie.

“When a lady needs to undress, you’re supposed to look away.” Lena pouts playfully as if their earlier argument was already forgotten. Amelie rolls her eyes and leaves the bathroom, locking it from the inside and shutting it behind her.

Lena emerges while Amelie is flicking through channels on the TV. She’s wearing her old shirt but it’s soaked and wrung dry by the looks of the wrinkles all over it, and there’s still blood but it’s not as apparent or fresh-looking.

“Y’know, when we find Fareeha, I’m gonna miss having a bunkmate.” Lena giggles and hops into bed next to Amelie. She only scrunches her nose as Lena snuggles into the bed but she lets her scoot closer, still not quite touching.

“An annoyance.” Amelie grunts and lays down on the mattress. She sets the television to a low but still audible volume and glances at the clock on the bedside table. Bright red numbers, 04:09, glare back at her before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

\---

As soon as Amelie cracks her eyes open, pain spreads over her chest and gut. Rays of light seep past the slits of the drawn curtain from the window next to her and she can’t bring herself to get out of bed to draw them shut. With some difficulty, Amelie sits up and gingerly reaches over to the telephone on the bedside table.

“Hello! Front desk, how may I help?” a woman answers.

“I need ice. Deliver to room 12.” Amelie says in baby Japanese. The woman chirps an affirmation and before Amelie can even set the phone down there’s a knock at the door.

When she passes the kitchen counter, she finds Lena’s revolver missing and a note:

_Amelie, be back in a jiff! Just went to grab some things before we leave for China!_

Below the note there are some scribbles of Japanese, _Yours truly_ Amelie translates, then Lena’s name.

Well, Amelie thinks, she’s learning, then makes her way to the front door.

She thanks the boy with whatever tip she has in her pocket, 215 yen and 12 Canadian dollars. Bucket of ice in hand, Amelie takes her shirt off, wincing when her muscles and bones groan against movement. Placing a few chunks on a towel, Amelie lets the ice melt before pressing it carefully to her bruised torso. It’s cold and the pressure hurts but she just turns her attention to the TV and flips the makeshift ice pack occasionally.

Lena doesn’t come in until half an hour later. She barrels into the room, several bags in her arms.

“Morning, love!” Lena cheers and dumps her purchases on the table. Her eyes then trail to Amelie, who’s still half naked and staring straight at her. Lena’s mouth is suddenly very dry and she jumps away with an awkward, undignified squawk.

“Y-Y-You’re shirt!”

Amelie wordlessly gestures to the area just underneath her breasts pointedly; the skin is blotchy with angry dark shades of purple and blue and there are some splotches of red. Despite seeing the bruises, Lena still jerks her head away and suddenly finds the walnut coffee table much more worth her attention.

“Ah, shit. Ah...Well, you’re in luck!” says Lena. Her gaze is still averted but she dumps the contents of her bags onto the table. “Flight’s not for another ten hours or so I figured we’re gonna have to go undercover.”

Among the things, there’s a pair of scissors and a haircut buzzer, a pair of black aviators, a bottle of hair bleach, a couple tourist shirts and cargo shorts, some makeup, and a crochet beanie. Lena takes the scissors and hat in each hand and offers them to Amelie.

“Pick one.”

Amelie immediately takes the hat and Lena gladly take the scissors and buzzer for herself.

“I reckon the cops are still trying to find us so,” Lena offers the tools to Amelie. “Will you do the honors?”

Amelie raises her brows and sits up, albeit with some difficulty. “You want me to wrestle this beast you call your look?”

“Every local an’ their grandmother is gonna be on the lookout for a lass with hair like mine, no use trying to go out only bleaching it all,” Lena explains and waves around the bottle of hair bleach. “Also I’ve been meaning to dye my hair anyway, so now’s a good time as ever!”

Amelie hums and wraps a towel around Lena’s neck and covers the floor she’s sitting on with the plastic bags to collect any locks of hair that falls. Lena sits with her head between her legs as she watches the TV, periodically entertaining Amelie with an odd question or two over the dull humming of the buzzer and occasional snipping.

“So how’d you and Sombra even meet?”

“You ever fall in love before?”

“Where were you born?”

“How old are you, anyway?”

Amelie answers each with patience and some teasing. By the time she’s finished, Lena’s sporting a short, faux mohawk that sticks up even without any gel.

“Alright!” she cheers. “Now for the fun part.”

With gloved hands, Lena applies the dye in her hair over the kitchen sink and Amelie watches on with interest. When she’s done, her hair is almost stark white with a tint of blonde. It reminds Amelie of the mane of a lion.

“How do I look?” Lena asks, running a hand through newly cut and bleached hair.

Amelie nods in approval. “Almost makes you unrecognizable. Except your freckles give the look away.”

Lena picks up a bottle from the table -- foundation Amelie realizes dumbly -- and watches as Lena expertly applies it across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. When she’s done, Lena turns her back to Amelie and dramatically looks over her shoulder with a “Ta-da!”

“Something tells me that this is not your first time doing this,” Amelie says, slipping off the couch to get a better look at her face. Lena grins proudly.

“You learn some things when you’re smuggling things between borders.” Lena points to the beanie. “Want help with tying your hair? Can’t imagine trying to lift your arms.”

“I can do it myself but some assistance would be appreciated.” Amelie sits back down on the couch and Lena bounds over behind it. She works quickly but efficiently and in almost an instant, Amelie’s wild mane is tied in a neat French braid. Lena tucks it all underneath the beanie. Amelie turns her head to look up at Lena expectantly. She only blushes and cracks a small smile.

“Gosh, if looks could kill, love.” she says and collects the trash from earlier.

Lena, cheeks absolutely glowing red, puts on one of the shirts and a pair of cargo shorts and helps Amelie slip on a bra and shirt. She hisses when Lena helps raise her arms or if Lena presses a little too hard while pulling the sports bra on, but she’s quick to apologize every time. Amelie can put on the loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans on her own while Lena messes with her newly dyed hair once again.

Lena reaches for the table and grabs the sunglasses, offering her the pair of aviators.

“I thought these were for you,” Amelie asks but Lena shakes her head.

“Pair of eyes like mine are a dime a dozen. You, however,” Lena leans up to slip the shades over her eyes with a bashful grin. “...Golden ones like yours a hard to come by.”

They leave the hotel, tossing their trash in some garbage can outside. A few blocks down, Lena spots a cafe and tugs Amelie gently towards it.

Once inside, Lena manages to order some coffee with her sloppy Japanese. Her charm and suavity, however, earn her a free pastry of her choice. She cheerfully brings it to Amelie, who’s already chatting away with someone at an adjacent table.

They both laugh at something and Amelie suddenly points to Lena. The person looks Lena up and down and quirks an impressed brow at Amelie. They offer her three cigarettes before leaving with a fond wave.

“Who was that?” Lena inquires as she takes a seat across from Amelie.

“No clue,” Amelie admits. “They were talking into their phone in French about some human trafficking and I told him that the police station is just down the road.”

Lena laughs and coffee gets into her lungs for it. It sends her into a coughing fit and she’s patting her chest between hacks. “Ho- Argh, ugh -- Oh man, imagine the look on his face!”

“He wasn’t as shocked as you might think; he recognized me. To the locals, we’re just a couple of tourists but to others,” Amelie looks at Lena behind her shades, but she still stiffens under her gaze. “I am the most wanted woman in this country.”

“Surprised he didn’t kill you on the spot. And no kidding, your and Sombra’s bounty is ridiculous.” Lena scoffs. “I’m surprised you’re alive and breathing and not six feet deep somewhere in Indianapolis.”

Amelie hums and places a cigarette between her lips, lighting it. “Sombra does good work. Without her, I’d be dead within a week.”

They share a moment of silence and Lena picks at her pastry left half eaten.

“... Are you alright?” Lena asks quietly. Amelie shrugs.

Silence. Lena sips her cup.

“Wanna feel my hair?”

Amelie looks down at sparkly hazelnut eyes and she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Lena smiles widely in response, grinning ear to ear when Amelie reluctantly leans over and runs a hand over her newly shaved head. The palm and fingers are cold against her scalp.

“C’mon, let’s grab some more ice packs for your ribs.” Lena stands and helps Amelie up. She leaves a few bills on the table for their trouble and exit the cafe quietly.

The corner store right across the street is small and packed with aisles of food, medical supplies, and magazines. Amelie eyes the magazines while Lena scans the aisles for ice packs and bandages an aisle over.

Amelie picks up a particularly promiscuous magazine to assault Lena with and she chuckles to herself, tucking it under her arm. She reaches for another similar magazine and catches sight of man.

“Sorry.” she apologizes and moves to let him pass. He does go past her, but only to move to the other side of her. In the corner of her eye, she watches him raise his phone from underneath his coat and point the camera lens at her. She raises a hand to casually fix her hair, hiding her face but he relents, snapping a photo of her outfit.

Lena chooses this moment to intervene and sweeps Amelie in a flurry of conversation.

“Ah, there you are! Look at all these cute keychains I got!” Lena steps between Amelie and the man, brandishing all the keychains she snatched earlier and subtly slapping his phone to the ground. Lena gasps in mock shock and picks it up, apologizing profusely. “Ah! Oh my gosh, I’m so so so sorry, sir!”

With the slight of hand, Lena deletes all recent photos before handing it back to him. Lena then grabs Amelie’s arm and tugs them out of the store and into the morning crowd. They weave between civilians and a traffic cop, who only glares at them for causing a small ruckus.

They get back to the hotel and Lena pushes her onto the couch. It takes Amelie by surprise and she falls over ungracefully, a grunt escaping her lips.

“Sit, lemme help with the bandages.” Lena says pointedly and Amelie rolls her eyes but complies.

“You know I’m more than capable of doing this alone.” Amelie says indignantly.

Lena tears the packaging for the bandages and the rolls fall to the floor. She swears to herself and kneels to pick them up. “Think of it as a thanks for saving my ass at the bar.”

“Last night--?” Amelie asks but when Lena starts wrapping the bandaging, she hisses at the pain. Lena apologizes softly but continues to wrap her up a little more gently. “You’re not in any debt to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Lena reaches for the instant ice packs and cracks them in half. They cool gradually and Lena presses them to the affected areas. “You could’ve just totally left me behind there. But you didn’t and I don’t want you to start thinking of this as a babysitting job.” she huffs.

“Well you just saved me from almost getting arrested like five minutes ago. Thank you for that.” Amelie counters. Lena shakes her head.

“Well, I need someone to make sure my ass is covered. My track record ain’t exactly squeaky clean either.” Lena tugs on the bandage tightly and Amelie winces slightly.

“You also mentioned needing a ‘bunkmate’, no?” Amelie teases. Lena’s cheeks are set ablaze but she fights the small smile from her face as Amelie lets out a laugh.

“I swear, after all this, word’s gonna go round and my badass smuggling facade’s gonna go down the drain.”

Amelie reaches up and slips the aviators from her eyes and places them on Lena’s face. She purrs and extends a hand to cups her face gently with a sly smile on her lips,“Yes, very badass indeed.”

Lena’s cheeks only deepen another shade of red and bats her hand away amicably. She rubs Amelie’s newly bandaged torso lightly. With a layer of bandaging over the ice packs, it allow for constant pressure and with the thick first layer of bandaging against Ameile’s bare skin, the biting cold surface feels like a dull coolness instead. But it’s difficult to sit up and Amelie is forced to ask for Lena’s help.

“Feels good?” she asks as she helps her up.

Amelie hums. “Thank you. I’d be surprised if I get away with just bruises and no broken ribs, but I appreciate the bandaging.”

Lena chuckles. “Love, I’ve seen you take on at least 20 guys nearly twice your size. I’m no doctor but I think you can handle some cracked ribs.”

“We’re gonna have to take this off before we board but until then…” Lena plops down on the couch next to her companion. Lena talks to her a mile a minute, asking questions and answering anything Amelie asked before a sudden ring of a telephone cuts the silence. Amelie moves to get up but Lena stubbornly pushes her back down.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it!”

“But I know who it is.” Amelie grunts, but Lena’s already leaning over the counter to reach for the telephone on the wall.

“Y’ello?”

“Ah, Speedy! Hanzo wanted me to check in on you two.” Sombra purrs on the other end. “You mind putting Amelie on?”

Lena pulls it from her ear and offers the phone to Amelie. She stands to take it.

“Sombra. Calling later than I expected.”

“Sorry, but it’s not my fault! You keep running all over town, it’s hard to pin you down even with the tracker.” Olivia pouts on the other end. “How’ve you been, by the way? How’s the ‘job’?”

“Am I supposed to take that as a euphemism?”

Radio silence.

“Am I on speaker?”

“ _Non._ ”

“Put me on speaker.”

Amelie asks Lena to put the phone on speaker. She’s known Sombra long and well enough at this point to know why she wants it on speaker and, much to her amusement, she also knows damn well what she’s going to say:

“Y’know, I figured Amelie ‘taking up a job’ was supposed to be French version for ‘for getting your end away.’ or something akin to that,” Sombra says aloud shamelessly and Lena chokes on her own spit. “She had mentioned you having… A cute jacksy earlier.”

Amelie’s not entirely sure that phrase was English but by the look of Lena’s cheeks set ablaze, she’s got a pretty good idea.

Before Lena could speak up, the machine rings with another incoming call.

“Sombra?” Amelie asks. There’s tapping on the hacker’s side and a huff.

“No caller ID… My screens are telling me it’s someone’s cell phone like someone butt dialed this line. Answer it and stay on the line; I’ll trace it just to be sure it’s a fluke.”

Amelie hums as Lena puts Sombra on hold and answers the incoming call. Neither of them says anything, but they didn’t need to--

“ _SAT!_ ” a deep voice bellows. “ _You are under arrest for suspected conspiracy with yakuza and the Shimada Clan; come down quietly to the lobby--_ ”

Lena immediately pushes the button to hang up the call and Sombra’s cackle resounds in the phone.

“Never a dull moment with the two of you, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Special Assault Teams (特殊急襲部隊 Tokushu Kyūshū Butai) are Police Tactical Units of the Japanese police. They are established in some Prefectural Police supervised by the National Police Agency.[1] The SAT is mandated, along with the Anti-Firearms Squad and the Counter-NBC Terrorism Squad, for counter terrorism missions and incidents involving firearms or criminals which require an armed response beyond the capabilities of local law enforcement in Japan.[1]”


	6. grounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A computer hacker is any skilled computer expert that uses their technical knowledge to overcome a problem. While "hacker" can refer to any skilled computer programmer, the term has become associated in popular culture with a "security hacker", someone who, with their technical knowledge, uses bugs or exploits to break into computer systems.

_Nine years ago…_

_Fareeha Amari sighs to herself happily and pockets her phone. Despite being thousands of miles away from each other, Angela made it a point to call her in the morning and greet her. At least, in the morning in Switzerland; it was nearly three in the afternoon in Seoul, South Korea._

_Her commander had demanded her presence for a week to oversee possible recruits for Helix Security among those enlisting for the Korean army._

_A timid assistant knocks on her office door, “Captain Amari, you're needed on the training field now.”_

_She groans inwardly and stands from her tiny desk, stretching her back and neck. The assistant hands her a heavy clipboard and Fareeha looks over the applications as they head towards the training grounds._

_“These are all the fresh faces we have--”_

_Fareeha flicks the paper up and her eyes widen at the profile of a certain recruit, glancing over her information._

_“She's just turned eighteen.” she cries in disbelief. “I can't really talk, but she's so young!”_

_The assistant shrugged. “You don't need an engineering degree to pilot a MEKA, just a pair of hands and a sense of direction.”_

_It does nothing to placate her and Fareeha sighs through her nose as they make their way outside to the training grounds where a line of recruits stand shoulder to shoulder as straight as a rod. However, off to the side, is the girl Fareeha saw in the pile of papers. She's sporting a childish pout and her commander stands beside her, his lips fixed into a deep frown._

_“Captain!” he shouts across the field and Fareeha quickly makes his way to him._

_“Yessir?”_

_He points to the girl and snarls. “This one's pulling a stunt; she's fourteen. What the hell do we do with her?”_

_Fareeha’s brows shoot up and she opens her mouth in surprise. “Fourteen?!”_

_“I have nowhere to go--” the girl argues, batting at the commander’s hand. “I can pilot a MEKA, just watch me! I can serve!”_

_Fareeha glares lowly to the teenager. “It's not a question of whether you can pilot or not. You're going to be piloting for your country’s military in war--”_

_“I know the risks!” she interrupts adamantly, earning a snicker from the other recruits. “My parents died the same way but I'm better than them, I can do this if you just let me!”_

_Fareeha pinches the bridge of her nose and looks to the line of recruits. “Alright, I want to see two miles, 200 pushups, 300 squats, and 500 sit ups then another two miles all done by sundown. Go on!”_

_They scatter and Fareeha turns her attention to the girl then flicks her chin towards the building behind her.”And you. My office.”_

_Her commander nods, “I trust her in your care, captain.”_

_“Sorry for this, commander. I'll have her off your hands and be back to oversee the recruits as soon as I'm done.” Fareeha salutes rigidly. Her commander salutes back and Fareeha apprehends the teenager by grabbing her arm gently._

_“I can walk fine on my own, captain.” she snaps back and jerks her arm free from Fareeha’s grasp. She only rolls her eyes._

_“Just work with me here, please?” Fareeha stage-whispers, eyes flicking to the side of the field where her commander stood. “My superior is already grilling your ass, and I’m trying to help you not earn a federal offence. Come into my office and we can hear your side of the story, okay?”_

_The girl mulls it over and offers her arm back without another word. Fareeha holds her again and leads her into the building and towards her office._

_“So space-y for a captain.” the girl notes when they enter. Fareeha pulls a chair up for her across her desk as she settles in opposite of her._

_“I'm only here for the next week or so, anyway. My usual office is over in Switzerland.” Fareeha explains and offers her a cup of water. “Hana, right?”_

_Hana nods, taking the paper cup. “What's your name? Unless you want me to just keep calling you captain.”_

_“Fareeha is fine,” she grins cheekily. “But captain Amari has a nice ring to it.” Hana only rolls her eyes._

_“Amari doesn't sound Swiss.”_

_“Ah, no, you're right. I first worked over at Cairo, Egypt. I met my wife there and since she worked in Zurich, I moved to her.”_

_At this, Hana visibly perked up before sinking in her seat. Fareeha laughs at this._

_“Yes, I’m gay and still in the military...” Fareeha’s gaze suddenly sharpens and her eyes narrow at the teen. “Speaking of which, why are you here? You’re clearly underage and you’re lucky I’m not putting you in cuffs for fraudulent enlistment.”_

_“I already said that I have nowhere to go. I’m an orphan and any relatives I have are either dead or in the military.” Hana explains indignantly. “Until I can enlist, I’m homeless. I’m tired of being juggled between foster homes and I already know where I’m gonna end up.”_

_Her head bows but Fareeha can see how much more it’s affecting her than she’s letting show. “Just... Let me just speed up the process...”_

_Fareeha looks at the girl before her and feels nothing but sympathy. She’s a child. With no home and no future. Fareeha closes her eyes and sighs._

_Like hell she’d let death be the ultimate future of this kid._

\---

Present day…

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” mutters Lena as Sombra continues to laugh down the line. 

“Sombra, _mon Dieu_ , assistance, _please?_ ” Amelie asks with more exasperation than panic. 

“I don’t get how you’re not freaking the fuck out right now.” Lena says beside her as she listens on anxiously to typing and beeping. “Is it, like, only a sniper thing?”

There’s the final _tap_ of an enter button and Sombra hums a sound of approval.

“Alright. Transfer me onto your cell phone, this line isn’t safe.” Olivia says abruptly. Amelie grabs her phone from her pocket and sends a call to Sombra who answers instantly as Lena hangs up the other phone. “Now get into the hall and put the phone to the closest camera you can see. Act quick -- I’ll bet they’re sending a team up to your room right now.”

Amelie wants to protest but she leaves anyway, peeking out into the empty hallway. About a meter out, there’s a surveillance camera on the low hanging ceiling. She stands on the tips of her toes to raise the phone to the camera. A few floors down, Amelie can hear the stomping of heavy combat boots racing up the stairs. 

“Sombra.” Amelie says impatiently. Not a moment too soon, there’s the snap of the hacker’s fingers.

“Sweet! I’ve got feed on all cameras, now just a little--”

There’s the muffled bellow of a voice below her.

“ _Halt!_ ” presumably the squad leader says. “ _We just lost access to all camera feeds, tread carefully men, over._ ”

Amellie retreats back to the room and Lena’s anxiously getting their essentials together: passports, photo identifications, phones, et cetera. 

“There’s a bell boy heading to your floor evacuating guests, but watch out, they’ve got a whole squad with them.” Sombra warns. “Just blend into the crowd and you can escape right underneath their noses; I managed to change the room you are in and they think your a few floors higher up. Keep me on the line and I’ll help you the rest of the way there.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on their door and Lena answers it.

“ _We are evacuating the building, please follow me._ ” the bell boy says almost as terrified as Lena looks. A woman armed to the teeth stands behind him, glaring down at them stoically. Lena swallows nervously.

“O-Oh? Is there -- uhm, is there, uh, something g-goin’ on -- goin’ on here?”

Amelie is right behind her and she almost snickers at Lena’s faux panic. At least she thinks it’s a farce. Her accent has thickened considerably and the way her hands tremble when she closes the door behind them almost seems more than just an act.

Among the evacuees, Amelie deftly pickpockets a radio from one of the squad members as they head in the opposite direction. She hides the bulky equipment under her coat, placing it near her cell phone. 

It’s quiet, but she can hear quiet crackling of the walkie talkie and Sombra’s typing and beeping. 

They and the other guests are led outside onto the street. It had been cut off and traffic has reached a complete halt with cop cars and vans blocking the flow. Amelie watches the building with mirth before Lena tugs on her arm and nods towards an alleyway.

They discreetly slip behind the crowd and retreat into the alley. The next street over is bustling with activity; traffic going both ways, people walking past trying to get home. 

“Over there.” Lena points over Amelie towards the subway entrance. “You go ahead, get to the airport and I'll meet you there.”

Lena turns to head back to the alley, but something grabs her collar and launches her backwards, sweeping her off her feet.

“ _Hurk--!_ ”

Amelie leans into her ear and Lena’s face flushes despite the low growl in Amelie’s voice. 

“If you sell me out, I'll know. I know how to make a murder look like an accident, _cherie_ ” she says lowly. Lena squirms in her grip and ducks out of her way.

“Will you quit the ‘tough assassin’ act already? I'm not gonna sell you out.” Lena rolls her eyes despite coming an inch away from death a moment earlier. “Just can't leave any loose ends. Let me take care of the rozzers, yeah?”

“And if you're caught?” she challenges. Lena only giggles much to Amelie’s annoyance.

“Cops been on my arse the day I was born love, I think can escape a couple government level dogs.” Lena fishes something out of her pocket, her cell phone, and hands it to Amelie. “If I'm not there by take off, don't wait for me.”

Lena leans in to press a quick peck to her cheek before she sprints off and is instantly lost in the crowd, leaving a baffled Amelie behind. 

“...She’s cute.” a muffled voice in her coat muses. Amelie grimaces and descends the stairs to the underground subway. 

“If you were here, I’d throttle you.” Amelie warns under her breath, knowing full well that Olivia could hear her. 

“What do you think she’s going to do? You only have, like, six hours before you’re flight.” Olivia points out as Amelie boards the station. 

“I trust that you'll make sure she doesn't rat us out. Or dies.” Amelie murmurs.

“Aye aye, captain.” Olivia grumbles.

\---

Lena weaves between bodies until she finds a row of payphones and hops into one. She shoves whatever change she has in her pocket and punches in a phone number solely meant for world-ending sort of emergencies

It rings five times until a disgruntled moan on the other end answers.

“ _Hnnnmurgh_ \--Hello?”

Lena raised a brow and checked her watch. “Love, it’s, like five in the afternoon over there.”

“Lena?!” there’s shuffling then a gasp, ”Are you okay?”

“Everything’s fine, love--” Lena starts. 

Hana huffs on the other end and flops onto her bed. “The only reason you’d ever call this number is for emergencies, not for a chat.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing, love.” Lena chuckles nervously. “I’ve actually got a couple cops after me and a friend. Do a girl a solid..?”

“You’ve dealt with cops before, Lena. Also I can’t really help right now…”

“Yeah, well, the cops also happen to be part of the S.A.T.” Lena says slowly, but Hana doesn’t budge.

“I’m busy.” she replies.

“With what?!” Lena cries incredulously. “Hana, pleeease!”

There’s a low, sensual muffled moan on the other end and Lena wheezes down the line.

“You-You’re buh-busy-- _fuck_ ” Lena cackles before breathing in. “ _That’s_ what you’re busy with--?”

“Shut up! Okay, I’ll help!” Hana shouts, ignoring Lena’s laughter. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I wanna know what you’re up to!” Lena prods still laughing as Hana groans.

There’s another voice in the background as Hana scrambles to her computer, “Hana, baby, who’s it?”

At the same time Hana shouts, “No one, Brig!” Lena sings back “Someone!”

“Alright you Brit-fuck, what do you want me to do to get you off my ass.” Hana begs in exasperation.

“You know my location, just check the local news--” Lena waits patiently as Hana types away on her computer.

“‘Shimada and yakuza’?” Hana says as she scrolls through several headlines from Yokohama. “Lena, what the hell are you selling?” 

“Okay, yeah, I know.” Lena anxiously shifts between her feet, watching the seconds she paid for count down, “Look, I don’t much time left and I need you to get them off my ass. I’ve got a flight to catch and I’m reckon that they’ve got cops all over.”

There’s furious typing on the other end and Hana huffs again. “You sure got yourself in one of heck of a situation, Oxton. You’re lucky I don’t hate you.”

Lena smiles to herself wryly. “Yeah, I know. Thank you so much, Hana.”

“Great, now leave me alone.” Hana grunts. “Why are you in Japan anyway?”

Lena opens her mouth to reply but hesitates for a beat. “I’m actually… Trying to find… Fareeha.”

The typing suddenly stops. 

“Lena--”

The payphone suddenly beeps and Lena groans. She leans over to the next pay phone and knocks on the window.

“You've got some change to spare?” Lena asks hopefully but the man shakes his head, brows raised in surprise.

Before Lena could give up, the deep roar of a motorcycle engine guns down the road behind her and every pair of eyes look to the triad of motorcycles weaving between the scattered crowd of civilians and police. The lead cyclist stops just meters from a high-ranking officer before reaching up and taking her helmet off.

She’s a spitting image of Lena, with her old brunette locks, to her freckles, and even the spider bite piercing on her left ear. Her lips split into a cocky grin.

The officer glowers at the doppelganger before speaking rapid orders into the walkie talkie on his shoulder pad. The leader immediately shoves her helmet back on and Lena whoops with the crowd as several officers climb into their cars and chase after the cyclists. She mentally reminds herself to thank Hana for coming in clutch as she skips to the closest street corner to hail a cab.

\---

Amelie saunters around the entrance, a cigarette hanging from her lips. Lena had 2 hours to get to the airport before take off and Amelie decided five minutes ago that if Lena didn’t show up she would find a one way ticket to Annecy, France. 

There’s an announcement and Amelie puts her cigarette out under her foot. But before she can head inside, someone shouts her name from across the street. 

“Ame-lie!” that cockney accent actually lifts Amelie’s spirits as she turns a little too eagerly and spots Lena bounding past the crosswalk and towards her. “You miss me?”

Amelie looks down at her with bored, ochre eyes and raises a brow but she brings her hand up for shake anyway. Lena scoffs and pulls her into a friendly hug that Amelie returns with an awkward pat to her back. Lena looks up with a sparkly grin and Amelie notices the deep cut on her left brow.

“What the hell happened to you?” Amelie murmurs, thumbing around the cut gingerly. Lena’s face split into a mischievous grin.

“Aw, love, you care!” she announces and Amelie frowns and presses on it as Lena hisses at the pain. “Ouch! Okay, okay! I just got in a little scuffle is all.”

Amelie pulls herself from the embrace and leads her into the airport with the tug of her hand. “You want to tell me what happened in the last three hours we were apart?” 

Lena shrugs. “I kinda’ spent whatever change I had on a payphone call, and my card’s in my phone case.”

“Your phone?” Amelie snorts. “Are you 12?” 

There’s another announcement and they power walk through the rest of the airport terminal.

“Well excuse me, I’ll buy a wallet next chance I get.” Lena pouts. “ _Anyway_ , I tried nabbing some bandages from some store and the cashier actually, literally kicked me out.”

They’re among a small crowd waiting to board the plane and Amelie sits Lena down at a seat. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you your bandages, alright?” 

Lena opens her mouth to reply, but she just nods dumbly as Amelie heads to a nearby kiosk. She returns with a box of bandaids in one hand a small bottle disinfectant in the other.

“Here,” Amelie says and pulls a roll of bandages from her back pocket. “For a smuggler, I don’t know how you fucked up stealing one of these.”

Lena takes the roll much to her delight. “I may have tripped over a stand of postcards on my way out, heh.”

At this, Amelie actually laughs and when she snorts, Lena can’t withhold her own grin. 

“Did you just..?”

Amelie pushes her away and takes a seat next to Lena’s. “I know you aren’t comfortable with me helping with your shoulder.”

“Oh, right!” Lena smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry for yelling before.”

“It’s your body, you were not comfortable with me touching you,” Amelie says plainly as Lena stands, pocketing her phone and opening the small box of bandaids; they’re Hello Kitty themed. “I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry.”

Lena only smiles sweetly. “Apology accepted. Be back in a jiff!” She scurries over to a nearby restroom and Amelie takes a moment to just compose herself. It’s short lived when a barely audible giggle from her coat’s inside breast pocket interupts her thoughts.

“You’re actually _bonding_ with the British girl!” Olivia teases. “You are _so_ far gone for this girl, Amelie.”

“Don’t you have something better to do besides eavesdropping on me?” Amelie growls.

“Oh please, you and your new partner have kept me entertained since day one.” she shoots back. Annoyed, Amelie settles into the uncomfortable leather seats and busies herself with Olivia’s musings.

“I’m _not_ into her.” Amelie grunts.

Olivia snorts. “You two talk like a couple of high school teens--”

“ _Tais-toi!_ ” Amelie scolds and spots Lena among the crowd bounding back towards her. There’s a bright pink bandaid over her brow where the cut was. 

“Like it?” Lena happily points to the bandaid and Amelie swallows a chuckle.

“ _Mignon._ ” Amelie comments, pocketing her belongings. “It’s cute. Come on, we’re boarding soon.”

“Alright,” Lena says, rubbing her shoulder as she follows Amelie’s lead. 

They board together and Amelie offers Lena the window seat, which she takes excitedly. Amelie coolly takes the one next to her and Lena elbows her.

“You know anything about Mei?”

Amelie just shrugs. “Former drug lord. Frighteningly powerful, beautiful, but dangerous.” 

“Well, you’re right about the first two,” Lena says and Amelie gives her a sidelong glance, brow raised to urge her on. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly. We go way back, Mei and I.”

There’s a soft, surprised “Holy shit--” and Amelie reaches into her coat to shut her phone off before Olivia could make another comment.

“How?”

“I used to work with her before she ‘retired,’” Lena says, making air quotes. “I did some deliveries and in exchange… She gave me a place to stay.”

“Is that some sort of sexual innuendo?” Amelie quirks a manicured brow and Lena waves a hand, her face flushed red. 

“Nothing like that!” Lena defends. She then pulls the collar of her shirt down, revealing a Chinese character the size of a quarter just beneath her collarbone. “It’s more like… A family.”

“Hm… I’m glad you two have some history.” Amelie traces the character lightly and Lena laughs nervously, pulling her shirt back up. 

“Haha, yeah…” 

The plane pulls onto the runway and Amelie watches as Lena immediately pulls her phone out to catch the sunset. She only manages to snap only a handful of photos before she’s chastised by a flight attendant. Amelie laughs as Lena reluctantly pockets her phone. 

As the plane ascends, Amelie watches as Lena slowly closes her eyes and falls asleep. Her bandaged brow twitches slightly and Amelie smiles to herself before leaning back. Her muscles feel sore and her head feels on the verge of a migraine but Amelie is grateful to just finally rest.

\--- 

_Some few years ago…_

_Fareeha sits down on her back porch and admired her handiwork: the old wooden railings were rotting away and she had exchanged each one all afternoon. Newly installed and painted beams and railings were drying in the summer sun and Fareeha lays her back flat on the porch, wiping sweat from her brow._

_“You should paint some other stuff on there,” a voice suggests above her and Fareeha cracks one eye open._

_Hana leans over her, her hair coming off her shoulder and hanging like a curtain. Fareeha smiles as Hana takes a seat next to her, looking out into the wilderness._

_“Mama...”_

_“If this is about a car, talk to Mom.” Fareeha interrupts and she can see just how much Hana’s shoulders drop in relief. So she sits up and elbows her daughter gently, assuming what Lena calls her ‘mom position’._

_“Hey, what's this about?”_

_Hana bites her lip and waves a hand. “Just forget it--”_

_“Oh, no no no!” Fareeha warns, grabbing her arm before she could stand and walk back inside. “Y'know you can talk to me, Hana.”_

_The girl clenches her jaw and tries to suck tears back into her eyes._

_“I just… Wanted to say thanks.”_

_Fareeha looks at her dumbfounded. “For what? Fuck, you need to warn me before you sit me down like this and talk to me; I thought you were pregnant or something.”_

_Hana can't hold back a playful laugh and Fareeha grins back._

_“I just… Never thought that I'd make it this far,” Hana looks out towards the treeline and wraps her arms around herself, ”I'm nearly 20, and already moving out next week. I always figured… That I would be on some military base in a country I didn’t know or… Dead.”_

_As she spoke, tears flowed freely down her cheeks and Fareeha wraps her arms around her and let her dry her tears on her shirt._

_“Hey, kiddo,” Fareeha says, her voice cracking,”Don't even mention it. Your mother and I love you. I just didn't want that life for you. Ever since we first met, I wanted to make sure that you had a chance to choose your own destiny.”_

_Hana sniffles. “I love you guys, too.”_

_“But… Do you still hate me for moving you to Switzerland?” Fareeha teases and Hana shoves her away, rolling her eyes._

_“You're amazing at ruining moments, Ma.”_

_With the hem of her shirt, Fareeha wipes tears from her eyes and sweat from her brow before nodding behind her, towards the house._

_“C'mon, mosquitos always come out around this time. Let’s help Angie with dinner, alright?”_

_Hana nods, ”Alright.” and let her mother pull her to her feet, and lead her into their house_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just landed back home n I've never been more relieved to be in 100° weather


	7. roaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A drug cartel is any criminal organization with the intention of supplying drug trafficking operations. They range from loosely managed agreements among various drug traffickers to formalized commercial enterprises. The term was applied when the largest trafficking organizations reached an agreement to coordinate the production and distribution of cocaine. Since that agreement was broken up, drug cartels are no longer actually cartels, but the term stuck and it is now popularly used to refer to any criminal narcotics related organization.”

Amelie wakes up nearly falling off a bed. When her vision focuses, she moves to swipe her hair from her face, but the motion causes her to completely fall face first onto the floor. 

There’s a dull thump then Amelie groans. From the bed, Lena attempts to stifle her giggles much to Amelie’s expense. 

“What time is it?” Amelie grunts, not moving from her spot in the ground.

“Just about five in the afternoon.” Lena replies giddily.

“Does Mei know we’re here?” Amelie asks and rubs the new bruise on her forehead. “Is she even available at all?” 

“If I’m a hundred percent honest… No, mostly because the government thinks she’s dead. I can't really just give her a call or ask people where I could find her, y'know.”

Amelie pulls herself off the floor and stretches, her oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders. They had grabbed the clothes from the airport convenience store, where they found laundry soap to wash their old garments with.

“But you do know how to get in touch with her, right?” Amelie asks and Lena nods enthusiastically. 

“I’ve told you, Mei and I go way back! I know how to find her.” she swings her legs off the bed, bounding over towards the kitchen. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Amelie wanders into the bathroom to splash water onto her face as Lena changes into her beloved sweater. 

“Amelie! I’ve got your coat and scarf here--” Lena calls out.

Amelie leaves the bathroom, having rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sees Lena slipping the shirt over her head. She only manages to catch a glance at her body and Amelie looks away shamefully and raises her hand to her eyes. Her shoulder was a mess of poorly wrapped bandages and scars are littered all along the area between her breasts.

“Are you decent?” Amelie asks and she hears Lena give a muffled giggle as she slides the rest of the shirt on.

“Yup!” Lena affirms and holds up Amelie’s coat for her as Amelie moves her hand. “Ready to meet one of the world’s most dangerous women?” she asks cheekily. Amelie swipes her coat but she can’t deny the tremble in her hand.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Amelie sighs and follows Lena out of the hotel room. 

When she steps outside, she realizes why she didn’t hear so much as a whisper of traffic. 

The scenery reminded Amelie of her and Olivia’s recent contracts in Rialto, Italy; islands of different shops and even singular buildings are separated by a flowing canal all connected by zig-zag bridges. Long boats in the water carrying tourists swim by lazily lit by various lanterns. Lena leads them down the canal, weaving between crowds of people and passing by open face restaurants serving hot, fresh meals and other hotels and stores with brightly lit fronts. 

For whatever reason, Lena crosses a bridge to the other side and enters a particularly small bar. When they walk in, the bar is narrow and the counter lines the left wall. It’s empty save for a lone bartender tending to a single patron, who’s slumped over, surrounded by empty shot glasses, and snoring softly. 

Lena takes a seat at the other end and encourages Amelie to take a seat with her by patting the worn leather. The bartender saunters over, cleaning a glass in his hands.

“Forgive me for my accent,” Lena apologizes with a grin as the bartender raises a brow,”But I’ve heard about, ah, _two tigers, here_.”

The bartender smirks at her and replies in English. “The correct way to say that is _liang zhi_ , not _er ge_. But, I understand.” 

He threw a cautious glance at the only other patron and carefully places down the cup before walking around the counter and heading towards the back. Lena follows him with a slight skip in her step, Amelie close behind her. 

He opens a door and inside is a descending flight of stairs; it’s almost pitch black. Lena tugs Amelie’s hand and descends.

Amelie missteps a handful of times before she feels flat ground, but Lena’s hand is still tightly clutched around her, expertly walking around in the dark and catching her whenever she falls.

Finally, in the distance, Amelie sees a dim light shielded by a thin veil. Lena parts it and Amelie finally takes a moment to breath and adjust. 

How they managed to fit a room of this size would always be a wonder to her. 

From where they stood on the mezzanine, Amelie can see below a much larger bar lined on the opposite wall with a much more impressive and wider range of choice for drink than the one they saw moments ago. Before it and towards them, are tables of various gambling games all packed with smartly dressed, wealthy looking men and heavily tattooed criminals. Waitresses in skimpy dresses scurry around, delivering food and drinks. Guns and hand knives are out in the open, and at one table, Amelie could see that they were gambling not only with money, but also small packets of drugs.

But the one thing that irks her the most, was how incredibly underdressed she and Lena were. With her reputation in the underground, she couldn’t afford being spotted by a bounty hunter, especially since she couldn’t even get in touch with Olivia while being physically underground. 

Lena begins heading towards the bar and Amelie makes haste to catch up with her, grabbing the sleeve of her shirt.

“Lena,” she hisses in her ear, “Where are we? I can see at least 12 bounty hunters here.”

Lena hushes her and pulls a seat up at the bar. “Oh quiet, it’s fine. By Mei’s rules, bounty hunting ain’t allowed even in this city.”

“But you said that the government thinks she’s dead.” Amelie argues, eyeing certain patrons around the room.

“Yeah, but there’s this thing called respect and standards, like a neutral zone,” Lena winks. “And also because her wife is scary as fuck--”

There’s a tap on Amelie’s shoulder and as she turns, a fist collides with her cheek. 

So much for neutral, Amelie first thinks as she falls over and lands on the floor back first. Lena acts as she recollects herself, jumping the man that hit her and throwing him down. 

She wrestles him into a chokehold, but because of the height difference, Lena has to stand in the tips of her toes as the assailant stands shakily. But she adamantly keeps her grasp tight as the man stumbles around, trying to get her off. But before things got too messy, a woman from behind the bar emerges and looks at the pair, clearly unimpressed.

“ _Please take this outside, blood is hard to clean from the carpet_.” a sultry voice calls out and as Amelie pulls herself up and her vision focuses on the woman behind the counter. She shifts her gaze from the scuffle to Amelie. Amelie’s breath catches in her throat out of more shyness than fear.

She is utterly gorgeous and Amelie feels slightly envious that Lena happens to personally know so many beautiful women. 

Lena lets go of the man almost immediately and they both immediately apologize to her with the bow of their heads. The man scurries over to a table and Lena bends down to help Amelie stand. 

“Oh, Lena? Is that you?!” the woman asks and Lena smiles back sheepishly. “I've missed you so much!”

The woman, Amelie figures is Mei, rounds the counter and excitedly pulls Lena into an embrace, running a hand through her new hair. For once, Lena is the one unprepared and nudges her head into the crook of her neck with a muffled giggle. Amelie feels another flick of envy but for another reason. 

“I know it's been far too long, but I'm afraid I'm not here for… A chat.” Lena says apologetically. Mei only waves a hand. 

“Nonsense, we have all the time in the world to catch up another time.” she reaches underneath the bar counter and produces a pair of menus. “Help yourselves!”

Lena eagerly takes a menu and scans it with wide eyes. “Blimey, I didn't realize how hungry I am. I'll take number 12 and maybe 7 for my friend, does Zarya still make her Polar Buns?”

Mei nods and turns to yell something into the kitchen behind her. Amelie hears the sizzling of oil and vegetables and watches a flare of fire that rises and disappears in an instant. 

“How have you been, Lena?” Mei asks softly. Lena blushes and grins. 

“I've been alright, mostly just… Here and there with deliveries?” she musters a smirk, “If I'm honest, it's been a lot more boring without you.”

Mei chuckles as a behemoth of a waitress emerges from the kitchen behind her, balancing two bowls and a plate in her arms. Her height wasn't the only thing that caught Amelie’s eye;it's also the head of neon pink, cropped hair and a massive scar in the shape of an X over her right eye and brow. She's astonishingly built, muscles well defined and swole underneath an apron that left no room for the imagination. 

Lena happily takes her bowl of noodles and the plate of warm buns and Amelie looks into her own bowl. She doesn't realize how hungry she is until the smell of spices and freshly grilled meat hits her. She tucks in gratefully and Lena can't suppress her own laugh. 

“Great, isn't it? Beats the trash we've been eating the past few days.” Lena says and Amelie nods, mouth too full to speak.

Mei suddenly zeroes in on Amelie and she nearly chokes. “Care to tell me why you're with her?”

“Oh, this is Amelie--”

“Widowmaker,” the woman that brought their food bellows suddenly and Mei presses and hand to her chest with a soft warning tone,“Zarya!”

“We know her,” Zarya continues anyway, her accent thick,“What business do you have with a hitwoman?”

Amelie swallows. “I was hired.”

The air was so tense, Lena felt the weight of it on her shoulders. She quickly waves a hand to try and dispel it with a nervous laugh. 

“Actually, she's kind of doing me a solid!” Lena explains and clears her throat. “For… Fareeha.”

At the mention of her friend’s name, Zarya’s eyes widen and her intimidating demeanor disappears as quickly as it came. “Fareeha? How is she? I haven't seen her in years!”

Lena opens her mouth to explain but quickly closes it. Noticing her hesitancy, Mei abruptly asks Zarya to fetch a bottle of bourbon from her office. The special one. She complies reluctantly and moves to a side room. 

“I know she's missing.” Mei says before Lena could say anything. Her face drops and her expression darkens with a scowl. “I… Have been looking for her as well.” 

Zarya returns with the bottle and Mei’s face brightens with a wide smile. 

“Thank you, my love,” she purrs and Zarya looks away with cheeks dusted pink, “As for you two, I'm sure I can be able to help with your and Fareeha’s cause. Of course, if you let me?”

“Oh yeah! Totally! Not a problem!” Lena chirps over-eagerly and it takes everything Amelie has not to cringe at her. 

Mei only smiles sweetly and collects their dishes. “Zarya, will you show them to my office? We have… Old business to attend to.”

Zarya nods and leads the two back up the mezzanine and to a room off to the side. It's locked with a letter combination that Amelie notes down mentally.

 _Russian Winter_ she thinks over and over again. 

As Zarya leads them down a flight of stairs, Lena nudges Amelie’s side. 

“I wouldn't bother with that combo.” Lena whispers. “It was Mei’s name in her drug cartel days.”

“Why is _she_ Russian Winter and not,” Amelie nods ahead towards Zarya,”her?”

Zarya opens another door and stares pointedly at the two large wooden chairs before an even bigger mahogany desk and plush swivel chair.

“You ever been to Russia in the winter?” Lena asks and Amelie shakes her head as they take a seat. “Well, they say that you'll feel the same way when you so much as _displease_ Mei.”

A minute later, light footsteps approach them from behind. 

“Now, to old business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect slower updates. Ive got school and im gonna have very limited time to write, edit, write some more, then post. Keep updated with occasional update stuff on my Tumblr @wolf1Ez 
> 
> Thanks for the support as always!


	8. double yellow line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:
> 
> Updates will be far and in between, closer to every 3-4 weeks instead of every 2. I will never abandon this fic, and I will write it to its end :)
> 
> Thank you for understanding.
> 
> Also transphobic comment will be deleted so fast you'll get whiplash :).

With Zarya out of earshot, Mei dives straight into business. 

“I only have this single lead.” she says quietly, reaching into her desk and pulling out a particular thick file. Labeled on it in big red letters are ‘Junkrat’. 

“Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fox. We worked together when I was still in business.” Mei explained. “He's dangerous and does whatever he can to grow his empire.”

“Why him?” Lena asks suddenly and opens the file reading old documents and memorizing details. Amelie leans over and mentally takes note of any facial features. All she can think when she looks at a mugshot is _filthy_.

He's 5’7” according to the mugshot and has a wiry but lean body. Some corners of his body like neck and pits are stained with what Amelie _thinks_ is dirt and gunpowder. He has big, googly eyes and a thin-lipped grin that stretches from ear to ear. His crusty, blonde hair is swept upwards and back, the tips singed, unkempt and pointing every which way. Insane was a fitting description, Amelie muses silently.

“Fareeha had arrested his second-in-command,” Mei shuffles through the documents and pulls out a single photograph of a large masked man, “He goes by Roadhog and had a history of terrorism, thievery, and possibly murder.” 

“We were in the middle of exchanging shipments when it happened. Jamison was furious and went radio silent for a few months. Coincidentally,” Mei grimaces, “Angela called me to tell me that the EAF pronounced her MIA just weeks later.”

Amelie scoffs. “A man of that size can do nothing to her.” 

“Maybe not Jamison, but any hitman could have.” Lena points out, her hands shaking as she grips the edges of a photograph of Jamison. “ _Bloody bastard_. Couldn't even fight a his own fight on his own.”

“I was waiting for an opportunity like this to arise,” Mei suddenly grins, cogs working behind her eyes, “I have a plan that only we can execute if we worked together.”

“It's never simple, is it?” Amelie sighs inwardly, “I'm sure that we can do this alone.”

“Oh?” Mei says quietly, leaning on her propped up hands, “How do you plan on getting into Australia without drawing attention to yourself?”

Amelie stands a little too quickly and Lena can feel Zarya’s presence rush right behind them. 

“I firmly believe in working separately,” she explains then turns and levels her gaze with Zarya,”If you want me to execute him, I will. If you want me to bring him hog-tied and alive, I will. The more people involved, the more complicated it will become.”

“I suppose you have a method of getting into Australia then?” Mei questions calmly despite Amelie’s outburst. 

“She doesn't.” Sombra calls out from her coat and Amelie scowls. “Amelie, Jamison is something else, trust me.”

“Why?”

“He has all of Australia under his hand.” Sombra says with more urgency, “You'll get _killed_ before you can even leave the airport.” 

“You need my help, and I’m more than willing to participate. Jamison trusts me enough that we can get into Australia without causing too much trouble.” Mei nods towards Amelie. “And I’m sure with the help of your hacker friend, I’m certain we’ll be fine.”

“Ohoho, Amelie’s services may be free,” Sombra snarls as Amelie scoffs, “But I don’t just hand out myself for free; especially for things like this--”

“Of course,” Mei says like it’s the most obvious thing,”I wasn’t expecting you to be ‘free’. I will pay you both _handsomely_ for both of your support.”

Amelie looks to Lena, who had been silent during the entire exchange, and raises a brow. Lena just shrugs. 

“Mei fulfills all her promises,” Lena says, rubbing the back of neck, “And… You’re really reliable; it’s nice having an assassin watch your back.”

Mei stands and reaches over to shake Amelie’s hand, ”It’s settled then. Do we have a deal, Widowmaker?”

With equal parts reluctance and annoyance, Amelie shakes her hand tightly. Compromise reached, Mei pulls her phone out and sends a brief message. 

“We leave tomorrow; I trust you both will be prepared by then?” Lena nods for the both of them and Mei smiles. “Will you stay here for the night? I would appreciate the extra hands.”

“Of course. But… What exactly is the plan?” Lena asks, standing and following Mei back to the mini casino outside.

Mei’s face is neutral as she spoke, but her voice sends chills throughout Lena’s body, “If I follow his complete disregard for peoples’ well being, then he will take the bait of my offer for opiates; one he can’t deny. I’ll personally deliver it via aircraft; that's where you will come in.”

“Woah-- It’s been years since I’ve piloted anything, love,” Lena says quickly, ”Can’t exactly say I’m familiar with newer cargo planes.”

“Then I will find an aircraft you’re familiar with, anything in mind?”

“BAe-146.” Lena answers a little too quickly and Mei chuckles at her. 

”Old habits die hard, hm?" Lena only laughs shyly in response.

“I will get you a plane, and I trust in your skills that you can get us to Australia?”, Lena nods in response and Mei turns towards her wife, ”Zarya, can you ask Symmetra if she has a spare BAe-148--?”

“146!” Lena corrects and the Russian nods. 

As quick as a flash of lightning, Zarya pulls her phone out and mutters some Russian too quick for Lena to understand a word. The call ends when Zarya says ‘Thank you’ and shuts her phone. 

“There will be a plane in Singapore from 1700 to 1800.” she reports.

“That's a tight window,” Lena muses, ”We've got a ride there I'm assuming..?”

Mei affirms her with a nod. ”Don't worry about the small things, Lena.”

She then turns towards her wife and leans up to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. ”And thank _you_ for the plane, _baobei_.”

Zarya’s face flushes red and Lena stifles a giggle.

When they come back up, Amelie is already rounding up drunkards and collecting empty glasses. 

“You know I can get rid of her after all this.” Mei adds lowly, standing next to Lena. Lena swivels her head, looking at her incredulously. She opens her mouth to interject but Mei continues, ”Has she done anything that I should be worried about?”

Lena shakes her head furiously, ”Nothing like that! Amelie and I’ve been watching each other’s backs since day one and I trust her tons. She… We respect each other.”

Mei eyes her suspiciously before her face dissolves into something Lena can’t quite read; something between knowing and curious.

“Okay, but you know where my loyalties lie, Lena. I will not hesitate if you give me the word.”

Lena nods and makes her way towards Amelie. She greets her with a small smile.

“Hey, Amelie.”

“What?” she replies harshly and Lena looks at her semi-hurt.

“Wow, rude--” Lena pouts. "You'd think after spending nearly 24/7 with each other you would start warming up to me."

Amelie's lips twitch with the ghost of a smile at Lena's pout, bottom lip quivering and all. It's a cute look so Amelie decides to tease her further.

“You have a look,” Amelie reads, “Your face is twisted and you look constipated.”

Lena opens her mouth in shock at her bluntness as she cackles. 

“Okay, rude _and_ crude. Unbelievable!” Lena threw her hands up in mock-defeat. In response, Amelie reaches up and weaves her fingers between Lena’s then bows at the waist and brings their linked hands to her lips. She presses a dignified kiss on the back of Lena’s hand, like royalty.

“I’m sorry, _your majesty_.” Amelie says in an over-exaggerated accent and smirks as Lena’s confidence devolves into embarrassment. "Would you prefer that I treat you like the Queen of England rather than a wanted criminal?"

“Uhm--! I, uh... No? Yes? Thanks?” Lena stammers and retrieves her hand while Amelie chuckles lowly.

"I'm teasing you, Lena." Amelie apologizes half heartedly. "It's unbelievably easy to make you red: it's cute. I find it hard to believe that you're a hardened criminal."

Lena stares at her in astonishment. "Oi, you think I'm cute?"

Amelie opens her mouth to humble her but Lena's wide, toothy smile leaves her heart trembling in her chest.

They continue with the clean up and afterwards, Mei leads them to a spare room back upstairs. It’s a tiny studio apartment with a single twin size mattress pressed up against one wall and a desk on the opposite. Even the walls were left bare; left stark white and bereft of any furnishing.

“I’m afraid that there isn’t a bathroom in here, but you are more than welcome to use our own down the hall if you need,” Mei says, reaching for a closet next to their room, “There are towels, clothes, and anything else you need here.”

Lena thanks her and walks into the room, Amelie close behind. 

“If you want to shower, you can go first,” Amelie offers, looking at Lena’s shoulder pointedly, ”You'll need time to fix that.”

Lena shrugs and tests stretching her injured shoulder. ”Oh, she's holding up fine, you can--”

She yelps when she stretches a little too far and bites her lip, whimpering weakly. 

“Okay, I lied-- _Fuck_!”

Amelie quickly rushes to her side and massages her shoulder. Lena staggers her breathing and looks to Amelie sheepishly. 

“I--Uhm, thanks… For that.” Lena murmurs. “You mind going first, though? So I can deal with this?”

Amelie reluctantly nods and leaves the room, closing it behind her. Once she's out, Lena tears her shirt off and faces the mirror hung on the door. The bandaging wrapped around her shoulder is soaked in her blood and Lena closes her eyes as she reaches up and slowly unwraps the layers. 

The layers closest to her skin stick uncomfortably and Lena swears every time when the dried blood is pulled from tender flesh. Underneath it all, the gunshot wound has taken a considerably large chunk out of her shoulder and it gruesomely reminds Lena of a valley. 

She pokes at the wound experimentally before reaching into her pocket for a roll of bandages. But she scowls when she remembers that she should probably wash it first since--

The door suddenly swings open and Lena leaps away in surprise. Everything from the waist up is completely exposed and Lena hurries to cover her bare chest. 

Amelie blinks.

“Sorry, Lena I didn't realize--” 

“Move!” she shouts and Lena quickly grabs a nearby towel and covers herself up in a flurry. “D-Don't look at me!” 

Amelie immediately raises a hand to cover her eyes and she hears Lena sob softly and shuffle around before sprinting towards the bathroom. Amelie follows after her after she hears the bathroom door shut, and even outside, she can hear Lena crying inside.

She knocks three times and Lena suddenly stops. 

“Lena,” Amelie starts, waiting for her to say something. She doesn't. “Lena, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, stop, Amelie, stop.” Lena cries softly on the other side. 

Amelie growls. “You made me travel over half the world, fought off yakuza, met Hanzo Shimada _and_ Mei Ling Zhou, and we’re about to take an illegal aircraft to Australia to look for probably one of the most powerful men of the international crime syndicate. You know damn well that I can break this door down, but I won’t. So I'm waiting here until you open the door and talk to me.”

There's silence and Amelie hears the shower turn on. So she leans against the wall next to the door and sinks to the ground, waiting for Lena to come out. 

A few minutes later, the shower finally turns off and Amelie barely picks up the sound of Lena sniffling. The door clicks, unlocked, but Amelie waits for Lena’s affirmation. 

“You can come in.” a timid voice finally says. 

Amelie opens the door slowly and finds Lena, towel wrapped tightly around her chest, leaning over the sink. Her eyes are red rimmed from crying and her shoulder wound out in the open. But she looks adorable, despite that, her hair still sticking out in every direction even when soaked and freckles spread over not only her cheeks, but trailed down to her shoulders, back, and front much to Amelie’s amusement. 

“Can we… pretend you never saw _anything_.” it comes out of Lena’s mouth like threat rather than a suggestion and Amelie nods. "As you can clearly fucking tell, I'm not comfortable with _anyone_ knowing. But what does an assassin care -- my coming out is just leverage to you." 

"I may be a hit woman, but I have standards, smuggler." Amelie scoffs. "As far as anyone has to know, your sexuality and gender are your own; I have no business outing you."

Lena doesn't respond and there's a heavy silence between them and Amelie awkwardly clears her throat.

“Would you, uh, like a hug?” she offers, expecting a sharp ‘No’ and kick to her ass, but Lena turns to her on the verge of tears with arms open. 

Amelie is quick to sweep her into an embrace, wrapping arms around her shoulders, albeit gently, and tucking Lena's mop of brunette hair underneath her chin protectively. 

“Are you alright with this?” 

Lena sniffles and laughs weakly. “No point in denying what you already saw, love.” 

“No,” Amelie sighs, "I meant, are you okay with me? Are you comfortable with me?”

Lena hesitates to answer and Amelie pulls away for her sake. 

“Amelie," Lena suddenly asks, "What's my name.”

“Lena Oxton.” Amelie answers promptly, but she can't withhold a lighthearted laugh. “A smuggler and an annoyance.”

Lena bites her lip. “Is that what I am in your eyes?”

Amelie closes the distance between them again, but she doesn't quiet bring herself right up against Lena. 

“You're stubborn and courageous; a dangerous combination that has me surprised that natural selection hasn't claimed you yet.” Amelie pauses for moment to let Lena laugh airily, “But you're smarter than you look--”

“Hey!”

“--And as _charming_ as they come. And… You also have 32 freckles. On your face at least.” 

Amelie leans in, lips dangerously close to Lena’s. She doesn't make an precaution to cover for a possible slap to her face and purely invests her trust on her instincts to carefully guide her next shaky words and hesitant moves. 

“And I have yet to count the others,” she closes the gap for only an instant, but it feels like an eon before she pulls away, face flushed after just a chaste kiss,”... But only if you will let me.”

Lena smiles but she doesn't raise a hand to slap her, but neither does she return the kiss. 

“Tell me what exactly are you trying to do here?” she asks softly. Unsurely. Hesitantly.

Amelie stands still for a moment. She didn't expect the conversation to take such a sullen turn but she steels her erratic nerves. 

“I have no plan,” she says plainly then pulls away, so Lena could look for any dishonesty in her eyes, “There's no one to blame for my actions except for you, _cherie_.”

“But why would I believe you?” Lena whispers. Amelie closes her eyes and sighs through her nose. She opens them again and stares into Lena’s hazel ones. 

“You shouldn't,” Amelie answers truthfully, ”I’m one of the most sought after women in the world for all the wrong reasons and I didn't get that way being honest.”

“Then what are you doing to me?” Lena asks with a shaky voice. “Why are you still with me, why haven't you killed me yet? Who… Who are you?”

Amelie closes the gap between them, kissing her deeply but Lena doesn't move with or against her. 

“I want you, Lena. Is there any reason why one steals when they're poor or eat when they're hungry?” Amelie demands quietly. Desperately. “Is there a reason why I shouldn't pursue you?”

“Because you're you.” Lena growls, her tone close to growl. “I know you lot are the type to use me for a _reason_.”

Amelie shoves her away, eyes set ablaze with rage. “My ass has been in three different countries and I've nearly been killed a dozen different times. I stuck with you because... _Merde_ I don't understand what you've done to me; you've worked your way into my life and heart but I don't want you to _stop_." she blinks away tears of frustration and her lips curl into a snarl, "Yet, I'm still here, looking for a woman probably dead--”

Lena pulls a fist back, and hits her square in the face. Hard. Amelie sees nothing but deep, dark space and stars dance across the bridge of her nose. She reaches up to gingerly hold her probably broken nose and topples over backwards into the tub, bringing the shower curtains down with her. When she opens her eyes, her legs are splayed over the lip the tub and Lena, towel still wrapped around her upper chest, stares her down. 

“Stay the _fuck_ away from me,” Lena whispers and purses her lips, “And stay the _fuck_ in your lane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Unrequited love has long been depicted as noble, an unselfish and stoic willingness to accept suffering. Literary and artistic depictions of unrequited love may depend on assumptions of social distance that have less relevance in western, democratic societies with relatively high social mobility and less rigid codes of sexual fidelity. Nonetheless, the literary record suggests a degree of euphoria in the feelings associated with unrequited love, which has the advantage as well of carrying none of the responsibilities of mutual relationships: certainly, "rejection, apparent or real, may be the catalyst for inspired literary creation... 'the poetry of frustration'."[13]
> 
> Eric Berne considered that "the man who is loved by a woman is lucky indeed, but the one to be envied is he who loves, however little he gets in return. How much greater is Dantegazing at Beatrice than Beatrice walking by him in apparent disdain".[14]”


	9. desert song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A drug cartel is any criminal organization with the intention of supplying drug trafficking operations. They range from loosely managed agreements among various drug traffickers to formalized commercial enterprises. The term was applied when the largest trafficking organizations reached an agreement to coordinate the production and distribution of cocaine. Since that agreement was broken up, drug cartels are no longer actually cartels, but the term stuck and it is now popularly used to refer to any criminal narcotics related organization."

There's a loud knocking somewhere right above Amelie’s head. 

When she opens her eyes, pain flourishes around her nose and her eyes water at the sting. Memories of last night flood her mind and she feels like drowning in embarrassment. The first thing she does is to bring her phone up and shoot a text to Sombra. 

_I've got a broken nose now. Off to God knows where_

She finally sits up and stands from her makeshift bed on the floor. 

Last night, after Lena punched her, Zarya found Amelie in the tub, bleeding and dazed. Mei had concluded she didn't suffer from a concussion and yet, despite the spot where and strength with which she was hit, her nose should heal properly. Amelie trudged back into their room, Lena was on the bed, scooted as far as she could towards the wall. But Amelie fetched some pillows and blanket to make a spot for herself on the floor and forced herself to sleep through the pain. 

On the desk, her clothes, cleaned, lay folded for her as well as a polished, pearl-handled Ruger GP100. It’s… Girthier than Lena’s snub-nosed M85 Taurus but Amelie could adjust. It doesn't take long to put them on and shoulder her coat on before she walks out, gun loaded and concealed just inside an inside coat pocket.

Outside on the upper bar, Zarya is talking with the bartender and Mei and Lena are chatting away excitedly at the counter. Mei looks like a stranger, her glasses traded for light brown contacts and hair buzzed almost as short as Lena’s in a neat close-cropped pixie cut. Her face, with makeup and what Amelie can only imagine as magic, altered so much that she was unrecognizable. The almost regal outfit from last night replaced with a wide-collared T-shirt and beige cargo shorts and black boots. 

Zarya nods at the three of them and they follow her outside. There, a long dragon boat waits for them and Zarya helps them on, before taking both paddles and rowing them towards mainland down the stream. People are already milling about or sailing down the stream alongside them. 

In the distance, Amelie sees the mainland and the several boats crowding the docks. Beyond that, skyscrapers reach for the clouds and smog above. She shivers as they veer straight ahead.

Zarya expertly tethers them to the docks, heaving the boat closer to help each of them off. At the road beyond the docks, a black, four-door Lincoln waits for them patiently and Zarya opens the doors for them. 

Before the driver can leave, Zarya taps the window where Lena and Amelie are. As soon as it lowers, she bends over so that her eyes are level with theirs. 

“If Mei comes home hurt or not at all, I will hold you both personally responsible,” she growls deeply much to Mei’s embarrassment, ”It's an hour drive to Singapore, Mei has the coordinates to the hangar.”

“I can take care of myself, Zarya.” Mei pouts but doesn't stop Zarya from rolling down her window and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Zarya backs away and taps the roof of the car and watches as it swerves between pedestrians and towards the city. 

“If it's an hour drive, why are we driving now?” Amelie asks curiously. “Zarya said the plane isn't available until much later.”

“Always expect trouble when you're a criminal, former or not.” Mei sighs. “I also suspected that you two didn't come in alone.” 

They freeze and a blush flourishes across Lena’s face.

“Mei, I'd never--!” Lena starts but Mei looks at her in the rearview mirror. 

“I know, Lena,” Mei starts, but turns to bark a command at the driver before looking at her again, ”It’s unintentional but you really must learn how to be more careful.”

Lena bows her head in shame. Amelie’s brow furrows in confusion but when she steals a glance at the mirror, she sees a commercial white van following them, window tinted and the front hull equipped with extra caging. 

“Reckon those are the bastards?” Lena asks and pales when she spots them as well. Mei calmly tells their driver to veer off the route and into the dense city in an attempt to shake off their stalker but to no avail. 

“Stop here,” she points at the side of the road.

Behind them, the car also parks. A man dressed in a leather jacket and jeans gets out and marches over towards Mei’s side and Lena watches anxiously behind tinted windows.

“ _Mei_!” Lena whines impatiently when he taps on the window. Mei glares at her and Lena stiffens and straightens her back. 

The window slides open and Mei tilts her head very slightly out of curiosity and mostly to appear confused.

“Do I know you?” she asks in an exaggerated accent that Amelie nearly scoffs. The man doesn’t budge. 

“Don't play games with me, miss Mei. This can get very ugly. Very fast.”

Mei snorts and looks at her driver, speaking in her native tongue, “ _The nerve of this man! So rude…_ ”

In an instant, he pulls a gun out from his back pocket and points it at Mei’s head.

“You will come with me.” he snarls and cocks it. “ _Qinglong_ will not stand for this.”

Mei only grins much to his confusion. Behind her, Amelie slowly inches to face the man outside, the revolver within her own coat loaded and ready to fire. 

One wrong miscalculation or anyone moves too animatedly, Amelie could easily miss her mark and make a fatal mistake but she trusts herself and her steady hand. 

She draws the firearm in a flash, but Mei doesn’t even move a hair as a bullet whizzes past her, just inches from her face. 

It hits its mark, between the man’s eyes, and he collapses backward, bleeding on the concrete. The driver punches the gas pedal and the tires squeal as they accelerate into the city and onto the nearest highway. 

From behind, a trio of white vans tears after them, weaving between civilians and cargo trucks. Lena’s heart is racing and she nearly shrieks when the back window blows open after receiving a whole clip from an assault rifle. Mei huffs, like the chase were more of an everyday chore than a life or death situation, and leans over to retrieve her own weapon underneath her seat, a heavily modified M14. Carefully, she eases herself to look out the sunroof window and takes aim. 

And like a trained hunter, the burst assault rifle hits two of the car's front wheels, causing them to flip over violently and nearly take out the third vehicle. The car swivels around the wreckage and quickly gains up on them. 

A man in the passenger seat leans out and fires four shots blindly at them. Nearly all the bullets miss Mei as she narrowly ducks back down, but their driver, unfortunately, catches two of them in his head. As Mei reloads, she stares sternly at Lena in the mirror.

“You. Drive, now!” she commands, then looks to Amelie as Lena clumsily climbs into the driver’s seat. “Widowmaker, take this and _you will not miss_. Am I understood?”

Amelie nods mechanically and takes the gun, opening her window and leaning outside with her lower half barely keeping her steadily. The black van drives just a meter behind them and motorcyclists speed up to surround them.

Lena gives their deceased driver an apology then throws the body out the open driver side door with a brief prayer before taking hold of the wheel. Her hands shake and adrenaline courses through her veins like a river.

But she knows better. 

Every burst fire from Amelie’s gun connects with a wheel or body. She empties half a round into the van speeding towards them before the front windshield gives way. Amelie smirks despite her hair whipping at her cheeks as the van slows to take cover behind the cyclists. As they weave around cars and get closer, Amelie fires. Two cyclists receive a whole burst in their chest and collapse, tripping another man and killing him instantly as he flew forward and collided with the ground. Amelie reloads, like a flash of lightning. 

All while she’s giving them cover fire Lena expertly guides them, finding opportunities to give Amelie a better shot or veering into cyclists if they get too close for comfort.

“Take the second next exit,” Mei instructs calmly as if they weren't being stubbornly chased by some gang members. She reaches into the glove box and pulls out a studded Desert Eagle and two heavy canisters. As she leans out the window, she takes aim with the gun in one hand and the canister in the other. 

Like a trained marksman, Mei tosses the canister up high and fired a single bullet. It pops open with a _wha-bang!_ that leaves Lena’s ears ringing as she veers towards the rightmost lane. There's a thick cloud of smoke that spills from the gunshot hole and within seconds, the highway is flooded in a thick, gray cloud. 

“Our exits coming right up!” Lena yells and Mei prepares the next canister. Instead of throwing it up, she throws it ahead of them. Lena watched in the corner of her eye as it sails just over the top of a semi truck in another lane. She barely has to blink before it explodes -- _wha-bang!_ \-- and there's another cloud of smoke. They peel off the highway and into the next exit, leaving behind the chasers and witnesses. 

Amelie slides back into her seat and rolls her sore shoulder. 

“Sorry there wasn’t any padding,” Mei apologizes with a half smile, watching Amelie as she unloads the assault rifle, “No worries, though; it will be smooth sailing from here on out until we arrive.”

“Who were they? If you don't mind me asking,” Amelie says as she disassembled the firearm to clean. 

“Old colleagues, I guess you can say.” Mei taps her chin with one finger and mulls over the terminology. “I used to trade with them but their leader kept making moves on me so I blew up one of their bases.”

Lena stiffens and gives her a sidelong glance. “Uhm, wh-why?”

“I was double-crossed. Unfortunately, Qinglong survived and now he thinks he can get revenge.” Mei says it so casually that even Lena forgets for a second that they’re all wanted criminals.

“Christ!” Lena squeaks, “I can't feel my fingers and I feel like there's still more of ‘em. I don't remember these guys from back then.”

Mei retrieves the gun from Amelie and hides it in a compartment just underneath the glove box. 

“Things were simpler then,” Mei smiles despite her words, “But… I would take today over anything.”

Lena grips the steering wheel. “Simpler… Yeah.”

The rest of the drive is silent and Amelie sleeps for half of it. When she wakes, it's pitch black out save for the bright light coming from a faraway hangar. Mei directs Lena to park on the side before leading them inside. 

Lena’s eyes sparkle like a kid in a candy shop and bounds over to every nearby aircraft. From an office in a mezzanine above, a woman saunters out and descends the stairs. 

“I see you've made it in one piece,” she says to Mei, looking pointedly at the damaged Lincoln. 

“A little skirmish with an old rival gang,” Mei answers with a sigh and holds a hand out, “How have _you_ been, Satya?”

Satya shakes the hand and heaves a simaliar tired sigh. “Meeting you with this plane has been the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me this week let alone month.”

She leads them towards the back of the hangar and points to a polished aircraft tucked away in the corner. “She hasn't flown in a while but she's still in top condition; the best BAE-146 I have to offer.

“I've filled it with enough fuel to travel around the world at least twice. The wings are sturdy and can handle turbulence with ease, but will have a bit of a Dutch roll, but I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. Engines are a pair of genuine Pratt and Whitney JT8D’s…” Satya goes on as she helps Mei roll a staircase over for them to board the plane.

Lena is already strapping herself into the pilot’s seat, flicking on switches and pushing buttons, the headset strapped snuggly over her head and strap under her chin. 

Mei begins to climb aboard and Amelie follows. But before she could step foot on the stairs, Satya stops her.

Amelie raises a brow. 

“Widow… Maker,” she says slowly. 

“For hire.” Amelie says mock-fondly, “Do you need something?”

Satya doesn’t hesitate. “How is Sombra?”

Amelie opens her mouth but stops herself. Satya and Olivia haven’t seen each other since their scuffle in Mexico and Amelie has yet to even know a sliver of the details behind it. What she does know, however, is that they had been separated for years and after their fight, Sombra was born. But Amelie knew better than Olivia’s ardent stubbornness.

“She’s alive, and doing what she does best,” Amelie says shortly. Satya nods.

“Tell her to call me,” she adds. 

Amelie purses her lips. “You know how she is, but I will do my best.”

“Thank you.” 

With that, Amelie boards the plane and Satya helps guide them to the runway. Bright lights line the runway and Lena aligns herself parallel to them. She accelerates forwards, and as she quickly gains speed, the plane steadily lifts off the ground.

Lena grins to herself and positions the mic over her lips.

“Goooood evening, ladies!” Lena says in a low voice and Amelie groans aloud from the seats behind the cockpit, “Thank you for flying Air Lena! I will be your captain for tonight -- please settle yourselves in; it’ll be a long flight but rest assured, we will arrive surely an' safely.”

Mei is grinning next to her as she checks the weather radar. Clear skies for now and for when they arrive in Australia. Lena flicks on autopilot but only after triple checking every piece of the control board then settles into her seat. 

“Hey, Mei?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna need you to tell me about Junkrat if you don’t mind?” Lena asks slowly. “I know it ain’t important, but he seems… Big.”

Mei raises a brow. “Are you, perhaps, _afraid_? The infallible Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton?”

Lena scoffs. “Just trying to be safe, is’all.”

“I understand.” Mei murmurs. “When I, ah, ‘quit’, I couldn’t sleep, eat, _live_...”

“I remember.” Lena volleys. “Zarya and I wouldn’t’ve let anything happen to you, though!”

“You two were exactly why I couldn’t rest--” Mei shouts and Lena flinches away. “My connections were too many and too powerful and after I… After I turned in my own men… After I gave everything up to live ‘normally’, I couldn’t afford to rest.”

“You don’t have to anymore, love,” Lena says, eyes ablaze with a newfound sense of courage and strength. “You saved me then, back when I was shit and dirt underneath peoples’ boot. Now’s the time for me to return the favor.”

Mei smiles wetly at her. “How do you plan to do that? I appreciate the sentiment but if I were to die in his office, then it may be as good as fate.”

Lena laughs nervously. “Zarya kind of wanted us to make sure you returned home alright; I don’t wanna chance what she’ll do if we go home without you.”

 

“But I couldn’t even protect Fareeha.” Mei grits out. “The only thing that Junkrat loses if he kills me is a few hundred customers in China.”

“I don’t think anyone could’ve.” Lena says thoughtfully. And it was an honest comment

Lena wasn’t lying for the sake of comfort, but neither was she being brutally honest. Fareeha looked out for herself; she was smarter than any mafia boss and stronger than any hitman. Which is why Lena is so adamant in her journey; nothing was adding up, nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t be dead unless she managed to bite off more than she can chew in pursuit of justice. 

“No. If I had just… Said something differently then, or taken care of Junkrat myself.” Mei trails off as she stares off at the clouds.

“No one could have.” Lena repeats, “Justice wa-- is what always drives her. But I know she wouldn’t have let Junkrat get rid of her that easily.”

“Bet.” Mei grunts and readjusts in her seat. “I still would have preferred taking care of him _myself_.”

Lena’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I forget you killed people for a living.”

“I forgetthat you sell some of the worst drugs humanity has ever seen.” Mei counters playfully.

“Times two!” Lena grins, holding up two fingers. “Thanks to the world’s horrible criminal justice system; you know they’re still looking for a man under my dead name?”

Mei shares her grin. “Fascinating.”

While Lena piloted them over the Pacific and towards uncharted territory, Amelie gazes out her window, listening to Lena and Mei’s conversation. If anything, Amelie could easily get Sombra to hack into any of Junkrat’s electronics, extract the information they need, then leave. But if this man were a fraction of what Olivia sent to her in nearly 15 megabytes worth of documents, then that route would be improbable. 

And would most likely result in her and Lena’s head served on a silver platter. 

She closed her eyes and sighed through her nose. 

It could have been worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm vvv tired but happy birthday, here's chapter 9, we hit double digits next month boiiiss


	10. petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The networks are characterized by a loose system of power relations. Each participant is interested in furthering his own welfare. Criminal entrepreneurs are the patrons and they exchange information with their clients in order to obtain their support. Clients include members of gangs, local and national politicians, government officials and people engaged in legitimate business. People in the network may not directly be part of the core criminal organization. Furthering the approach of both Cressey and Albini, Ianni and Ianni studied Italian-American crime syndicates in New York and other cities.[115][116]
> 
> Kinship is seen as the basis of organized crime rather than the structures Cressey had identified; this includes fictive godparental and affinitive ties as well as those based on blood relations, and it is the impersonal actions, not the status or affiliations of their members, that define the group… Strong family ties are derived from the traditions of southern Italy, where family rather than the church or state is the basis of social order and morality.”

Upon landing, they’re immediately escorted into a black van behind the airport when Mei mentions a certain ‘delivery’ that must be made out for Jamison directly from her. 

Amelie is in no mood for negotiation as she and Mei and Lena are rushed to a sleek, black limo out back. Exhaustion ebbs in the back of her mind but with the glances Lena shoots her way, she's kept wide awake. They were told that they wouldn’t arrive until noon and until then, they were to keep quiet, rest, and eat while they still can before the meeting. Mei was already asleep across from them and the driver wasn’t up for any conversation either. The silence would’ve been nice if it didn’t look like Lena was trying to murder Amelie with sidelong glances alone.

They haven’t spoken a word to each other since Lena socked her in the face in Su Zhou and the air between them was unbearably tense. Amelie just sighs. If they didn’t fix what went wrong, they may as well be as good as dead for Junkrat, served on a silver platter.

So Amelie starts, “I’m sorry--”

“We need to--”

They look at each other dumbfounded. If Lena wasn’t already exhausted, she might have giggled. “We need to, uh, talk, yeah?” Lena offers shakily. 

Now, Amelie has had her fair share of stakeouts and 24-hour long ‘shifts’ that lasted for days on end. Exhaustion is a familiar friend. At this point, she still has a couple of hours of pure consciousness despite being in a car chase just hours ago. So she just smiles before devolving into a few scoffs, and eventually a full-bodied laugh.

“You’re right,” she says, smiling, much to Lena’s confusion, “I’d rather we were friends than not when we meet Junkrat.”

Amelie can see Lena pale under the sun’s early rays. “I forgot we were doing that.”

They both laugh this time, albeit quietly as to not disturb anyone else.

“I’m sorry I nearly broke your face,” says Lena. 

“I’m sorry for pushing myself onto you.” Amelie murmurs back, much to her chagrin. “I’m… Bad at reading people. I felt the moment was right.”

Lena chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of her neck. “Oh, I know what that’s like. Had my fair share of bloody noses and black eyes.”

Amelie’s smile shines in the low light and Lena catches herself staring. 

“With your charm? I can’t imagine.” she compliments and Lena blushes.

The silence between them is no longer tense and Amelie feels more content than before. Lena’s hand slides between their thighs and she pokes her with a pinky. 

“We alright then?” Lena asks softly.

“Only if you think we are,” Amelie says in response and Lena nods an affirmation. 

The sun hangs high over the horizon when the arrive at Junkrat’s headquarters in downtown Sydney. It’s impressive, much to Amelie’s surprise but a sense of fervent dread overcomes her. Previous experiences taught her that big dogs like Mei and Junkrat never play nice nor fairly. Sombra's reminder echoes in the back of her mind: to always leave herself a back door. 

That, and because a tiny earpiece sits just behind her earlobe. Olivia's humming a funeral song and Amelie prays that it isn't her that would give a eulogy at the potential funeral.

She’s nudged from behind by one of Junkrat’s men and she chances a sneer before following after Mei and Lena inside. All three of them are immediately patted down and confiscated of any weapons including, much to Lena’s deep reluctance, her pistol. They’re led to an elevator and sent to the top floor, alone.

“I will do any of the talking, understood?” Mei says glancing pointedly at Lena.

“Oi! You don’t see me complaining.” Lena grumbles and Mei nods.

“Oh, I hope Zarya is doing fine. Do you think she’s busy?” 

Amelie recognizes the cue immediately. She coolly plays off her surprise by swiping a lock of hair by her ear and activating an earpiece. It beeps when Olivia connects and opens a mic. 

“Testing, one, two--” she coos and Amelie clears her throat as a warning against Olivia, partly to test the now open mic and mostly to shut her up. Lena stifles a giggle with the back of her hand. But her smirk is wiped clean off when the elevator stops ascending and dings. Mei steps off confidently, followed by Amelie, then a very anxious Lena.

At the end of the hall, there’s a large, sleek, black door lit by an overhead spotlight. A large man beside it presses a large palm to center-side of one of the double door as they approach and it opens with a groan. Inside, there’s a wide wooden desk in the middle that spans about a third of the room, covered in strewn papers, files, and bullets. Behind it are six filing cabinets, brim almost bursting from the sheer amount of stuff packed into it, and a window spanning the back wall that overlooks the city. 

There’s a muffled _shhh-thunk!_ that whizzes right by Lena’s head and she yelps, jumping away from the sound. A dart sinks itself into the wall left of her at head level and hits just an inch from a bullseye.

Junkrat cackles from his spot by his desk where he threw the dart. He flexes his prosthetic on his left forearm and curls each finger then picks up another dart and, using legerdemain, rolls it over each knuckle before gripping it and throwing it, this time at Amelie. She doesn’t flinch and -- _shh-thunk!_ \-- the dart hits bullseye this time.

“What can I do for you lovelies?” he asks slyly, “I know you ain’t here to sell.”

Mei tilts her chin upwards at the observation. “What gave us away?”

He takes a seat at his desk and twirls around, waving an arm vaguely west, “You came in through the west -- you used to make deliveries in the east.” 

Junkrat then waves at the two chairs in front of him, his playful disposition suddenly absent. “Now why don’t you take a seat and tell me what the hell’s goin’ on before I take care of you like I shoulda’ years ago.”

Mei gives a dignified scoff but takes a seat. “Am I not allowed to come in for a friendly chat?”

“Not after you ‘retired’, no... But that can easily be rearranged.” he offers, “It ain’t easy having to hide every day of your life, innit? I know damn well every gang in China and then some are after your arse and I can make it go away if we worked together, like we used to.”

Cogs work behind his wide eyes, and he raises an open palm for a handshake. But Mei makes no move towards him.

“That Mei is _dead_ , buried ages ago with Mako--”

Junkrat suddenly slams his faux fist down on the desk and Lena immediately shoots up to stand between them. Amelie wonders briefly that if he had hit the desk any harder, if would it have splintered.

“ _You_ don’t get to talk about him that way, y’hear?” he growls. Mei’s expression doesn’t change.

“A perfect segue,” Mei mutters in an indifferent tone, “I came because I believe and know that Ma -- his death is related to a friend.”

Junkrat gazes at her with glossy eyes before his shoulders hunch in a cough. Then he starts shaking, cackling madly before he throws his head back and lets out a howlish guffaw. 

“So _that’s_ why you’ve got this one on a tight leash!” he sniggers and points a long finger at Amelie, “You! Widowmaker! The hitwoman--”

He suddenly doubles over and coughs up a storm, hacking and spitting at his polished floors. Years of smoking all sorts of substances, Amelie grimaces to herself at the sight of the floors becoming colored after his episode. After he regains his composure, he straightens and eyes Amelie up and down. 

“Fancy meeting you at last, dollface.”

She squints at him down her nose, “Do I know you?”

“I hired you before -- usin’ an alias.” his smile widened, “I contracted you to kill the cop for _fucking_ over my right-hand man.”

He stands up abruptly and grips the edges of his desk, “You have no _idea_ what that bitch took from me. And I made sure she paid for it. How do they say it? An eye for an eye?”

Lena stands up to him, her face so close that she could smell his breath. “You fucking killed her.” her lips fixed in a scowl and shoulders hunched, ready to throw down. But the tip of blade pokes the underside of Lena’s chin and she freezes as the grin on Junkrat’s face widens. 

Amelie lunges forward faster than Junkrat could even react and shoves him down onto his desk with a hard thud. She grabs the hand with the knife and twists the wrist hard enough that he lets go of the weapon.

“Paws off, mutt,” Amelie growls and to her surprise, his face pinches into a sniffle. 

“Do what you want to do; the next step you take might be your last.” he threatens, “I don’t give a _fuck_ anymore; that blonde _cunt_ got what she deserves anyway. Mako would be damn proud.”

Lena takes a step back and her brows furrow. “What? What do you mean blonde?”

“The doctor.” he manages to choke out before Amelie presses his face down harder with a snarl.

“The fuck you mean?” Amelie demands and Junkrat struggles against her steel grip. Amelie gives him some wiggle room and he claws helplessly at her forearm. Lena gets to his eye level, gaze so cold that even Amelie shivers, but she doesn’t let it show.

“Are you talking about Angela? Dr. Angela Ziegler?” Lena asks slowly, not even believing that she’s asking this question. He grunted an affirmation.

“It was only s’posed to be a simple assassination,” he grumbles, chest heaving, “then _she_ got too involved.”

\---

Angela rolled over in the mattress, bare torso coming into contact with something bitterly cold. She bayed and flinched away, much to Fareeha’s amusement.

“It’s only an ice pack, Angie.”

Angela pouted up at her wife but accepted the ice pack and delicately pressed it to her collarbone, where a fresh hickey from last night blatantly stained her alabaster neck. 

“When do you head out?” she asked as she shifted the pack. Fareeha shrugged in response and readjusted her tie for the umpteenth time in front of a mirror.

“Chief wants up to rendezvous at Porte de Hal at 1000. Not sure ‘til when but want to grab lunch afterward?” Fareeha offered. Angela slid from the bed and towards their haphazardly opened suitcases and pulled out some civilian clothes for her and two coats. 

“Well, I have a little meeting Dr. O’Deorain and the others so I’m afraid not. I’m 70% sure it’s over ethics of an experiment waiting to be vetoed so it may take all noon, unfortunately,” she said as she pulled on the white blouse her wife handed her then shouldering on one of Fareeha’s coats, ”Can you do dinner, though?”

Fareeha strode over to her and gripped the thick lapels of the coat and brought the doctor to the tips of her toes for a gentle kiss. As Angela melted into the brief kiss, Fareeha took the advantage of Angela's absent-mindedness and tugged the coat off her shoulders and slipped a smaller, more petite one meant for her. Angela protested but Fareeha just grinned and pulled her arms through the thick sleeves. 

“Do you expect me to fit into one of your jackets? I’m scared I’ll flex the sleeves right off,” Fareeha chuckled as they leave their hotel room and head downstairs. 

“Hm, yes, but I can still smell your cologne on that one.” Angela countered, nudging her arm with a playful bump of her elbow.

Fareeha made a sound of mock dubiousness, “ _Femmes_.”

As they exit the building and into the chilly fall of the City of Brussels, Belgium, Angela leaned up and pressed one last kiss to her wife’s cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight?”

Fareeha hummed and leaned into the kiss with a small smile. “Of course.”

They depart, climbing into separate taxi cabs and head in nearly opposite directions. Neither of them caught the tall woman in a long coat watching them from a bench across the street. 

...

Angela arrived at the clinic, shivering as she entered the considerably warmer building. At the front desk, a young man looked up with a bright smile. 

“Doctor Ziegler,” he announced eagerly, ”O'Deorain is waiting for you upstairs. Floor seven, office marked 112!”

She smiled in response. “Thank you! Do let her know I'm here; you know how she is with early guests.”

The lad nodded as Angela made her way to the elevator behind him. Her cheery demeanor fell almost instantly when she stepped in and she reached into her inside pocket to retrieve her phone. 

‘ _Your intel had better be correct, Moira._ ’

Vaguely threatening and straight to the point. Her phone pinged with a response not even a second later. 

‘ _You're here to ensure that all is alright, anyway, Doctor Ziegler_ ’ was the snarky reply. 

Angela resisted making a face and stepped off the elevator when it arrived on the seventh floor. She found her office fairly easily and stepped inside. Moira O'Deorain sat at the desk shoved in the corner, staring intently at her computer screen. 

The reflection of the monitor on her glasses gave away any semblance that she was actually working; some bright cartoon of orange and purple flashed across square glasses before she closed the window. 

“Ah! The renown and ever successful Dr. Angela Ziegler,” Moira drawled, “How may I _ever_ be of service?”

Angela wasted no time and slapped a thick stack of one hundred US dollar bills on her. The rubber band and tight strip of paper keeping it together indicated that it was, indeed, the amount Moira demanded -- a hefty $25,000. The geneticist didn't even bother counting it and quickly tucked it away in her desk drawer. 

“We ought to be careful, doctor,” Moira said with the slightest hint of anxiety, “You can't go around brandishing this kind of money here.”

“Is it done, or not?” Angela sighed, her patience dwindling. 

“So impatient so early in the morning,” Moira tsked. She then merely reached for her phone and tapped in her password before turning the screen towards Angela.

“Our man is already on the job, there's no need to worry.” 

Angela stared at the map on the phone as a bright green dot accelerated towards a larger, red dot that pulsed in time with her heart. Madness worked behind Moira's eyes as she watched Angela's blank and almost apathetic expression. 

She'll risk the extra quip. 

“As soon as Reyes is done and Mako perishes, so will your nightmares and fears.”

\---

Fareeha arrived at the Porte de Hal a quarter of an hour earlier than what Chief asked for; it was intentional. Helix officers were no strangers to attempted assassinations and, for every meeting, they were forced to take extra precautions.

She thanked her driver and milled around outside before the castle, observing the crowd walking about; families with small children and exasperated parents, old folks sitting around and watching with wistful eyes, adults wandering all over, entering or exiting.

“Pharah!” 

She whipped around spotted a wiry man step out from a taxi, waving over at her excitedly. She smiled at him.

“Aizad!” she called out. He came up to her and gave her a handshake.

“Chief here yet?” he asked. Fareeha shook her head.

“Not yet.”

He hummed and pocketed his hands, watching the crowd with Fareeha. After about five minutes he suddenly nudges her left shoulder. For the briefest of moments, Fareeha freezes; it was a predetermined signal that meant he was followed there. Fareeha reached for her phone to send a text:

_Aizad tailed, proceed with caution._

They waited around for another hour before another cab pulled up, and out came Saleh, then Chief. They shook hands and chatted, laughing jovially together like they were long lost friends before heading inside.

It was an architecturally beautiful building, Fareeha mused to herself. It had been kept in near perfect condition under careful hands and sentimental hearts. She smiled despite their current status; some things like the mere appreciation for historic relics always seem to linger with humanity.

“No bounty hunters going to care if a shootout happens right here,” Saleh muttered under his breath as if he read her thoughts, and Fareeha scoffed in agreement.

“Focus, soldiers,” Chief said, throwing a look over his shoulder that forced the both of them to stiffen and straighten their backs, ”We’re all trained professionals armed to the teeth with a warrant for a man’s arrest; can we at least act like we are?” 

“Yessir. Sorry, sir,” they mutter in unison, like a child being chastised by their father. Chief smiled.

“At ease, I'm only joking… Seems that all’s well here. Proceed to Le Bistro--”

Chief suddenly snapped his head forward and hummed. He brushed a hand by his right ear to silence the communication link swiftly.

“Change of plans, boys… And girl,” he added, glancing at Fareeha apologetically, ”Target’s on the move, heading south on Chaussee de Waterloo.”

“What about our stalker?” Fareeha asked as they briskly walk out of the castle and into the streets.

“No time, our priority is making sure we get our guy -- this is as good of a chance we will ever get before I die of old age.”

Saleh swallowed a laugh as Aizad reached for his phone and called a certain number. Not a minute later, three cars roll in and Fareeha hopped into the first one wheeling in, then Saleh and Chief in the next, then Aizad in the last one.

Fareeha, with her steely gaze on the road, reached for her phone and tossed it on the dashboard. Chief promptly called her and she answered.

“I have one guy tailing him right now, sending a GPS signal right about… Now.”

Her phone pinged and Fareeha received a live feed of a map updating every five seconds where a red dot traced southwards on Chaussee de Waterloo, presumably following their target. 

“Aizad, peel off and approach him east,” Chief ordered.

“Copy,” Aizad said sharply. Fareeha glanced at her rearview mirror as Aizad turned at an intersection to cut off their target. On her phone, his blue dot pinged on the map, accelerating far ahead to cut him off.

“Fareeha, go west and speed ahead and cut him off head-on.”

“Aye, aye, Chief,” she stated and veered right, accelerating down the road.

“--Shit! Chief!” Aizad suddenly yelped, “Target’s stopped -- on Rue de Rome!”

Chief swore as he received a new message, “Orders are to back off, but HQ can fuck off -- close in, now!”

Fareeha is the first to arrive at the scene, their tagger pulling in behind the target vehicle.

They’re stopped in front of a thrift store and Fareeha instinctively brought her hand to where her firearm was strapped on to her waist. She motions inside and their tagger nodded. Fareeha proceeded with the utmost caution, the tagger just inches behind her, weapons drawn. She held a hand up and swiped it by her ear twice.

_Fall in formation._

The tagger held an OK sign and followed Fareeha in, crouched low and behind a stand. Fareeha peeked over and spotted a large man at the counter. She held her breath.

She reached for her phone and sent a text to Chief.

_Do not engage, hostage situation, proceed with back up_

Something poked her forehead as she sent the text.

“Up.” a gruff voice ordered.

Fareeha obeyed without looking up. She knew what it was.

Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, she raised her eyes. Her neck craned upwards and came face to face with one of the most infamous drug dealers of the century.

Mako Rutledge. 

Wanted for aggravated assault, murder of all degrees, illegal production and selling of drugs, and so much more.

“No gun,” he grunted. Fareeha complied, dropping the firearm and kicking it away. The pressure of her second weapon tucked in a strap on her back suddenly felt heavier but she knew better. 

“You too.” 

Fareeha heard the clatter of a pistol behind her and she sighed. Mako cocked his gun and tapped the tip against her forehead. 

“You’re a cop.” he said bitterly, “Make any moves and I’ll shoot.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw the arrival of two cars. Aizad swiftly left his vehicle and made his way to the entrance. Chief and Saleh close by, weapons were drawn to cover Fareeha and Aizad. 

Fareeha pinches her face in mock-bitterness to buy them time. 

“Bastard.” she grimaced. He laughed and aimed for her foot.

“I have no time for this.”

Before he could fire, Fareeha jerked her leg up and kneed the gun away from her then she whipped around and grabbed the tagger. She launched them behind a counter to cover as Aizad burst inside, rifle raised.

“Mako Rutledge! Put the gun down!” he bellowed. Mako didn’t flinch as he raised his gun and fired at point blank. The bullet found Aizad’s thigh and he went down with a shout. Mako fled the scene with more grace than Fareeha expected.

Fareeha and the tagger rush to Aizad's side as he clutches at the bullet wound.

“He's getting away!” he growled, swatting at Fareeha's helping hand.

“Call an ambulance,” she orders at the tagger before sprinting outside and catching Mako hopping into his truck and speeding off. 

“Get in!” Saleh shouted and waved her into his car. Chief opened the door wide for her as she hopped in and Saleh wasted no time speeding after their target. 

Through traffic and narrowly dodging pedestrians, three of Helix Security's finest soldiers chase down Mako Rutledge in the streets of the City of Brussels. Fareeha's head spun at the thought of all the potential paperwork they would all have to deal with after this mission… And also because Saleh's driving was absolutely atrocious it should be considered a world crime.

Fareeha nearly flew out the open window when he made a sharp turn and gunned forward, gaining inch by inch on Mako's truck. 

With years of training and fine-tuning of skills, Chief raised an arm outside and aimed at the lock on the back door. It exploded from the impact and, without anything holding it down, the door slowly rolled upwards, giving them front row seats to exactly what they needed. 

“Bingo bongo,” Fareeha slurred and snapped a photo of the inside of the truck with the swipe of her phone. She sent it immediately over to HQ, confirming intel that Rutledge was in possession of over five tonnes of marijuana, methamphetamine, and among other things. Five tonnes seemed like a wild underestimate, Fareeha mused silently. 

“HQ has an aerial view of the target and are closing him off two miles ahead,” Chief informed. Overhead, they heard the muffled whirring of helicopter blades

“We actually got him,” Fareeha said in disbelief, “We actually got him.”

“Don't celebrate too soon,” Saleh reminded her grimly, “Now we have to bring him in.” 

In the distance, they see a line of flashing lights and road spikes set up to stop Mako. The truck slowed down and Saleh parked on the driver side to prevent Mako from attempting to escape.

“Mako Rutledge!” one of the cops barked from the police line, “You are under arrest, please step away from the vehicle with your arms raised!”

The giant man stepped down from his side, hands raised in surrender. Fareeha all but stepped out of the car, gun raised with a pair of cuffs in the other hand. 

“Arms behind you, sir,” she ordered and Mako, surprisingly, complied. Hands fell behind his back ready for the cuffs. 

Just as Fareeha clipped the metal onto his wrists, he got on his knees and looked straight up at the sky. She read him his rights as she kept him upright with a tight grip to his shoulder.

Fareeha said the last line before handing him over to Saleh, who guided him over to a cop car. 

But there was a shout and Fareeha watched as the cops fell behind cover. In a distant building, she saw a glint of light, but it was already too late--

A clap of thunder roared throughout the city and Mako fell on his front. His head collided with the asphalt, dead before anyone could even register what had happened. Blood quickly pooled around the bullet hole between his eyes and spilled on the road, and just like that, Mako 'Roadhog' Rutledge was dead.

\---

Angela watched as the red dot pulsed and flashed, then disappeared from the map. Moira received a text promptly after the red dot disappears and the green dot fled the scene. 

‘ _It's done_.’

For the first time in weeks, Angela felt at ease.


	11. Ache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Vigilante justice' is often rationalized by the concept that proper legal forms of criminal punishment are either nonexistent, insufficient, or inefficient. Vigilantes normally see the government as ineffective in enforcing the law; such individuals often claim to justify their actions as a fulfillment of the wishes of the community."

Gradually, Amelie’s grip loosens and Junkrat eases himself from her grasp. He flings backward into his chair, papers flying from the desk onto his lap. He cracks his neck and flexes his jaw experimentally as the three of them sat there in stunned silence. 

“Christ, you’ve got a grip,” he mumbles to himself.

“Angela,” Mei says to herself softly, “What have you done?” Angela, kind, loving, and pacifist Angela. She had lied to them. But all for what? Next to Mei, Lena is seething with anger. 

“You’re lying!” she accuses. She stands too quickly for anyone to react and leaps over the desk towards him. The inertia forces the chair to tip over and they topple over backward, sending them both to the ground. She grabs him by the collar of his shirt and starts shaking him vigorously, like reason would just fall out of him, “Angela wouldn’t stoop to that level! She… She just wouldn’t!”

For a second, Lena’s face drops in realization as missing pieces finally fall and fill in the blanks of the puzzle behind Fareeha’s disappearance. 

“D’you want receipts or something?!” Junkrat demands angrily and sits up, shoving her off and helping himself to his feet, “She hired members of _Talon_ ; you know damn well what that means!”

Lena stands slowly, bares her teeth, then shouts as she headbutts into him, crashing into a nearby glass cabinet display of all sorts of expensive bottles. The shelves and glass bottles tremble from the force but neither of them cares to look.

“I don’t believe you!” she roars, enraged. “Fareeha's dead _because of you_.”

She winds an arm back, and her fist collides with his jaw. The force of it knocks a tooth from his face and he spits it out and the blood pooling on his tongue out. Lena feels like she’s broken just about all of her fingers but she winds back again, aiming for his nose. But before she could punch him, someone pinches and holds back her elbow. Lena doesn't need to turn around to know who it is and she drops her arm without an argument but she keeps him pinned.

“That’s enough. We have what we need.” Amelie says coolly, gripping her arm a little tighter. Junkrat, face bruised and bloodied, seems unfazed by any of the events and leans against the shelf.

“I didn’t want none of this, but she just couldn’t help herself,” he says, hands creeping up and reaching for the hands gripping his collar, “Roadie ain’t ever do nothing wrong, he didn’t deserve to be shot in the streets like a dog. He deserved better!”

At the same time he grabs Lena’s arms, he knees her in the gut and twists her wrists. She doubles over from the kick with a wheeze, just in time for Junkrat to knee her chin. But she sees it coming and flinches away so the impact isn’t as devastating but it still connects. Lena pulls back to prepare a kick to his head, but he counters it and throws her off balance, both of them colliding with the ground. 

He manages to pin her down and painfully grips her wrists above her shoulders. 

“I wanted to get my revenge. I wanted to fuck over who killed Mako,” he explains as Lena struggles underneath him, “I wanted to take _everything_ from whoever took everything _from me_.”

Amelie jumps on his back and tries to lift him up but he's stronger than she expected. 

“So I hired Sombra and the Widowmaker; appropriate name innit?” he continues to ramble, “Fareeha never saw it coming and you know damn well I would be glad to do it all over again--”

She tugs harder as Lena continues to struggle. Suddenly all at once, memories of that kill flood her mind, like waves. 

She remembers being perched for weeks, stalking her target, learning her schedule like the back of her own hand. When she finally got down to it, watching the woman through her scope while she worked at her desk very late into the night, Amelie found herself… 

Oh -- she remembers now.

She’s yanked back to present when Lena yells out in pain as she headbutts him again. Junkrat keels backward, clutching his nose and narrowly colliding with Amelie. Lena squirms out and away from underneath him and shakily stands as Junkrat recovers. In a flash, he reaches for the knife from the ground and swings it in her direction. Lena squeezes her eyes shut and braced herself.

It connects with something soft and Mei suddenly screams out in panic. But Lena doesn’t feel anything. Was it the adrenaline?

Slowly, she cracks her eyes and sees Amelie standing with her back to her, holding Junkrat’s head in a chokehold under her arm. Lena didn’t need to even think about where that knife had landed.

“Amelie!” she shouts but the assassin doesn’t move. Amelie grips him harder and the grin on Junkrat’s face falters before his eyes closed and he sinks to the ground like a bag of bricks from suffocation. As he falls limp against her, Amelie collapses beneath him with a huff, unable to bear any weight. 

“Amelie, Amelie!” Lena cries frantically, pulling her head onto her lap. She looks up at her dazed, eyes barely focusing on that horrid blonde mohawk.

“ _-dejo! Pendejo!_ ” Olivia scolds frantically in her ear. Mei is frozen in her seat, eyes glued to the knife wedged into Amelie’s abdomen. Amelie can’t think about much beyond the pulses of pain but she manages to pull enough brain cells together amidst the chaos to grit her teeth and reach for her earpiece. 

“Put this onto anything electronic, now,” she orders, handing it to Lena. She picks it up with trembling fingers as her eyes scan the room. 

“Here,” Mei says, quickly reaching for it from Lena and sticking it onto a laptop on his desk. She opens it and the screen flickers on, completely white. But it was only for a second before it’s replaced with black and purple streaks, indicating that Sombra was already working her magic. 

“This is so dumb,” Olivia mutters through the laptop’s speakers now, “How can you even _think_ with that knife inside you?”

With just a few taps, Olivia hacks into the building’s security system without any detection. After messing with the camera to Junkrat’s room and putting it on a loop of an empty room, she then works on staving off any suspicion about the meeting with a single email from ‘Junkrat’.

“When we leave, I can disable the security systems and provide a straightforward escape route. But… I can’t help you once you’re out of the building.” Olivia frowns. 

Mei bites her lip, “We can worry about that later, getting Amelie to stop bleeding is our priority right now.”

“Alcohol,” Amelie suddenly rasps from Lena’s lap, grabbing her wound to hold the knife steady as she tries to sit up, “Don’t remove the knife, find alcohol.”

Lena’s eyes fill with tears as she looks around the room for anything, but the panic is setting in too quickly and with her senses sensitivity amplified, everything was becoming too intense. Despite it, however, her eyes land on a huge bottle of clear vodka inside the alcohol display case. She gently sets Amelie’s head down and trips over herself on the way to it. Holding herself steady on the display case, she scans the cabinet for any indication on how to get in. 

“Step back,” Mei declares then grabs a paperweight from his desk and throws it. The glass shatters into a million pieces and Lena reaches in without hesitation for the unopened bottle of vodka. 

She rushes back to Amelie’s side and pops the top off. Before Lena could pour half the bottle on her, Mei stops her by grabbing her hand. 

“We need to figure out a method to stop the bleeding once we disinfect the wound,” she says. She then looks Amelie square in the eyes, “Are you opposed to cauterization?”

Amelie swallows nervously but shakes her head.

“Let’s hope -- _pray_ \-- that this goes well,” Mei grimaces then grabs at the drawers, scouring his desk for a lighter. Inside the bottoms drawer, she finds a zippo along with a pair of pliers. She tears a nail from his desk with it. Then, with the nail in the jaws of the pliers, she uses the tiny flame of the lighter to heat the nail until it glows red hot.

“You’ll pour alcohol on and around the wound and do your best to clean up as much blood as possible. As soon as you’re done, hold her as still as possible -- this will sting like a _bitch_.”

Mei nods at Lena to go ahead and Lena holds her breath as she starts to tip the bottle.

“Wait--” Amelie protests suddenly and Lena pauses as Amelie reaches for the bottle, takes a swig, then hands it back to Lena, “Okay, go.” 

It takes every fiber of her being to not move as Lena poured the alcohol and wipe away blood around the knife. Lena does what she’s told after pouring and holds Amelie back as centimeter by agonizing centimeter, Mei seals the wound. 

Mei starts at the bottom of the knife and seals the skin together there. Then, while slowly removing the knife, she works the nail upwards with surgical precision. Amelie does everything in her power not to fidget too much or shout too loud in pain as Lena clung to her for dear life when Mei presses just a little bit too hard or the knife moves against her tender skin.

When Mei is done and the knife is out, a long, dark red scab is left just beneath her navel. 

“You’re lucky the knife didn’t go so deep,” Mei mutters and helps Amelie to her feet, “Any deeper and I don’t think I would have been able to do much.”

Amelie doesn’t answer, mostly because every step she takes leaves her knees weak. 

“Olivia, status?” Mei asks the laptop as she sets Amelie down on a chair. 

“I can disable this entire building on ‘when’,” she pipes up, her face now on the screen, “But I’m going to need some time extracting some, ah, information.”

Mei freezes, “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Hey! I’m not here for money, _Loba_ ,” Olivia says defensively, “Plus, I know you’re curious about the data he’s been collecting on you and your wife the past twelve years…” 

Olivia gestures to a widescreen behind her. A loading bar that’s only about three quarters filled is all Mei can see from her end.

“‘Data’?” Mei inquires quietly. Olivia’s face fills the screen again and she pouts impishly.

“Oi! As I said, my services aren’t free--”

“Olivia. Behave,” Amelie grouches in warning from her seat, swatting at Lena’s worrying hands away, “What’s our plan of getting out of here? You can’t expect us to run out of the building and be safe from there.”

No one answers for a solid minute before Lena slowly raises a timid hand.

“I… May have some connections here that can get us out of here. But none of you are gonna like it.”

“It’s better than nothing, _ma caille_.” Amelie mutters, waving a hand at her new scar. 

But moments later, as Amelie is clambering into the back of a dirty pickup truck, she decides that literally nothing was the better option. 

Lena had called one of her many friends and said that she was in a pinch and desperate need of a ride as soon as possible. The man on the other end groaned and groveled until Lena’s pestering got the better of him. However, he had said that they were to go ‘his way’. 

Unfortunately for Amelie and her new scar, ‘his way’ involved sprinting out of the building as Olivia essentially shut down the entire building, giving the trio just enough time to bolt. Outside, a white pick up truck zoomed in at the nick of time and parked itself right in front of the building. Lena opened the passenger seat for Mei before letting herself and Amelie take the back. 

The latter would have complained with no end, but the wound in her gut said otherwise. So she let Lena lift her into the back of the truck and held on like the Devil on a soul when Lena banged the side. They sped off just as Junkrat’s guards came out to stop them. 

The back window was open as Lena pokes her head through it to talk to their driver. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Jesse!” Lena grins much to the man’s displeasure. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just consider ourselves even now, alright? Now you can stop bringing up Texas for solids.” he drawls in a deep American Southern accent that Amelie internally blanches at. She can’t see much from where she’s seated, also because of the fact that he was wearing a huge, dark brown, ten-gallon hat.

Lena beams, “Deal!”

“Now, you mind telling me what got you into this mess with _the_ Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes? I know you’ve gotten yourself in trouble before, but this is a new low.”

“S’long story, but right now, Amelie needs help,” Lena says as he glances at her in the rearview mirror. 

“Does she need a doctor?”

“She’s been stabbed,” Mei explains next to him, “I cauterized the wound, but it will likely get infected if we don’t act now.”

“It’s jussa' infection,” he says, scratching his head under his hat, “But I know someone that can help out. Involves heading back to base though.”

They cruise through the city until they reach Geelong, a port city just southwest of Melbourne. Lena holds onto her the whole ride there and taps her face any time her eyes closed for a heartbeat too long or if she seemed like she was fading away. 

“Can't lose you this far into the game, love.” she quips. Amelie shakes her head drowsily. 

“Tired,” she defends weakly, “Never been stabbed like this before.”

“I can tell. All your clothes are designer.” 

Lena giggles when Amelie reaches behind her to paw at her stupid face but Amelie just smirks because she's afraid laughing just might tear the wound right open.

Jesse turns into a suburban neighborhood and Amelie can’t help but grimace. The white, dirt-stained, pickup truck sticks out like a sore thumb among white picket fence homes and little mini Coopers that zoom by. He pulls into a little house at a corner, garage opening at the push of a button.

Inside the garage, a huge man is hunched over a car, working with its engine. He peers over the popped up lid of the hood of the car and greets Jesse and guests with a grin but immediately drops his tools when Lena comes closer with Amelie laying limply in her arms.

“Jesse!” the huge man grunts and quickly moves to take Amelie from Lena, but she instinctively takes a step back. Realizing her mistake, Lena shakes her head and bows her head, chagrined.

“I--I’m sorry, Rein’,” Lena apologizes quickly and lets him take Amelie from her, “She’s been stabbed and needs medical attention right bloody now.”

She doesn’t leave the man even as he squeezes through the door leading into the house. Jesse and Mei follow not too far behind, giving the medic time to do his work. But Lena is at Amelie and his side for every second the instant he lays her down gently on a couch.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he almost chuckles as Lena invites herself to throw Amelie’s coat on the ground and undo the bottom buttons of her shirt for him, “I will make sure she will heal properly.”

His reassurance does nothing to still Lena’s heart as she looms over him while he cleans and stitches Amelie proper. 

Rarely has Amelie ever been afraid of anything before, but she forbade herself to fall asleep, afraid that she just might slip away if she so much as got a wink of sleep. Watching Lena’s anxious eyes shift between the surgery and her eyes isn’t really helping so she moves her focus to the hulking man working over her.

“What is this?” she asks softly, eyes open and awake, “Where am I?”

“You need to calm yourself,” he states simply as if the Widowmaker wasn't an infamous hit woman and instead were just a child, as if he wasn’t piercing a needle pulling thread through her skin to sew a fatal stab wound, “You are very close to going into shock and it will be messier than it needs to be if you keep fidgeting like this.”

“Not helping,” Amelie bites back. Despite the jab, the man chuckles. 

“Will it help if I answered your questions then?”

“Yes. Please.”

“If that’s the case; we are a sort of vigilante group, I suppose,” the man says as he steadily sewed her wound, hands working accurately and deftly even with being blind in one eye, “Lena used to work with us.”

“Vigilante?” Amelie wonders aloud.

“There are only so many things the police can right in the world. And sometimes, not all of them are good. Overwatch exists to deliver justice where they failed to do so,” he layers bandages over her abdomen and waves at Lena, “Bring her some water, _Bitte_.”

When Lena comes back with a cup of water, he retrieves a clean shirt that isn’t stained with blood and helps her slip each arm through the sleeves. When he’s done, Lena carefully tips the lip of the cup to her mouth and lets her drink slowly.

“You will heal just fine, eh…?” 

“Amelie,” Amelie rasps, palm resting on her properly stitched abdomen,” _Enchanté_ …?’

“Reinhardt!” he says jovially, “Now, do you mind telling me how you got tangled with the one and only Lena Oxton? She used to work for us, y’know? Rounded up the bad guys for us, earned the nickname ‘Tracer’ because she was so good at tracking.”

Lena blushes and pulls the cup away when she sees Amelie’s smirk, “Was she now?”

Reinhardt cackles proudly as Lena looks for anything in the house to talk about and change the subject. 

“Her last job nearly got us caught, though,” he says gleefully with the voice of a grandfather before standing up and reaching down to pick up Amelie’s coat, “We aren’t exactly legal, y’know.”

As he lifts the coat, a piece of paper falls from a pocket and before Amelie or Lena can pick it up, Reinhardt reaches down and swipes it. His smile disappears when he peers down at it.

A photo with two women, one with graying hair but a certain wild youth that matched the younger woman next to her. 

“Where…. Did you get this photo?” he says gravely, eye slowly creeping up from the photo to Lena and Amelie.

“‘S a long story…” Lena says like it would help explain anything, “But what you’re looking at is the reason I left Overwatch.”

He stares at her, brows furrowed before looking back at the photo. 

“For Ana? And Fareeha?”

Lena sighs and looks at anything but the broken-hearted man before her, “It’s… Fareeha went missing nearly a year ago and I left to look for her. But… She’s dead.”

Amelie shuffles onto her side so she can reach for the coat from Reinhardt and pulls herself up, despite the ache in her lower belly.

“She is not,” she claims, slipping an arm through the sleeves.

Lena and Reinhardt’s eyes snap to her. 

“What… Do you mean?” Lena asks, “Weren’t you the one who…?” 

“That’s exactly why I know.” Amelie says, sitting up slowly -- half for effect, half because her new stitches are absolutely flaming still -- “Fareeha is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's ya boi
> 
> I'm vvv sleepy but comments really motivate me for this shidd
> 
> expect slower updates cus i've got so much stuff to deal with but i will see this fic to its end just like expect not to come anytime soon cus of school n also cus im working on another widowtracer fic hahahha
> 
> so ciao for nowww


	12. this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been a while but believe me summer is coming soon and I can finally put some time into this. I think I just might cry though cus this is nearly coming to its end. Thank you for sticking around for so long :’))

Amelie, despite knowing and temporarily being a part of the Shimada Clan in Japan, had never experienced Tokyo, Shinjuku nightlife. Flashing lights from neon signs and mega screens with all sorts of ads covered in Japanese characters she could barely grasp the meaning of; open face restaurants packed to the brim with patrons flooded the streets with all sorts of delicious smells; people both young and old passing by all wrapped in thick coats, sober or not, paid no attention to the tall, cloaked woman carrying a large suitcase. She was almost overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells but she only gripped the handle of her suitcase tighter and hastened her pace towards her destination. 

Turning into a narrow alleyway, she walked down a few more blocks until she reached what looked like a dead end. She peered over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed or watched before scaling over a dumpster and reaching for a nearby fire escape ladder. As she climbed, her earpiece buzzed on and Olivia greeted her a so loudly that it surprised Amelie and she nearly lost her grip on the rusty ladder.

“ _Merde,_ Sombra!” she scowled as she regained her balance and continued her climb.

“Sorry, sorry!” Olivia apologizes half-heartedly, “I’m just so excited -- this Junkrat guy wired us _350,000_ US dollars for one kill!”

When Amelie arrived at the top, she looked up to the stars and barely made out the Big Dipper. Once orienting herself with which way was North, she shifted right until a specific building from a few blocks away came into view -- a huge luxurious hotel that stood proudly over nearby buildings. 

“ _The Ritz-Carlton_ ,” Olivia hummed as Amelie set up near a ledge, “I wonder if our client knows if he’s being a little _generous_ ; finding this woman was a piece of cake. You don’t really meet a woman named just ‘Pharah’ anywhere… I wonder what her real name is...”

“Perhaps that could be a side project for yourself later. And I am certainly not complaining, if he has the money to afford it,” Amelie grunted as she assembled her rifle, “This gun is anything but cheap. Not to mention, your Internet and indie porn addiction is getting a little bit out of hand, _Minette_...”

Olivia let out a flabbergasted scoff as Amelie gazed through her scope and looked through each lit window. She finally found her target and smiled to herself. 

Yes, the $350,000 was generous, and Amelie couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. 

“Seventh floor. Target idle, sitting and working on her laptop…” Amelie murmured as if Olivia were actually listening, “Approximately three and a half kilometers away. Wind, negligible to none. 7.62×54mmR cartridge…”

Her finger hovered over the trigger, trembling both in anticipation and from adrenaline. Tonight, certainly, after weeks over stalking, watching, and observing, it all came down to this moment. So Amelie sat still, unblinking in fear of missing the perfect moment, like it would slip out right from her fingers if she should so much as wink. 

The woman continued to work, stopping to scroll up and read, before scrolling back down and continuing to type. Rinse and repeat. Amelie let time settle into her bones before hunching her shoulders and holding her breath, ready to take the shot once her nerves were steeled.

But the woman had suddenly stopped typing and stretched, obviously very irritated and fatigued, unknowingly denying Amelie her perfect shot. Amelie swore to herself for not reacting sooner as her target plucked a photo frame from her desk. She readjusted at once and strained her eyes to see what had intrigued her target so much.

The woman wiped the glass of the photo frame with the hem of her shirt and smiled warmly down upon it. Even from twelve blocks away and through her dirty, skinny scope, Amelie saw the slightest hint of a blush stain her cheeks. The photo depicted the woman with another blonde figure, both posing and smiling brightly with a teenager between them, looking incredibly annoyed.

A family, Amelie realized dumbly.

“Hey,” Olivia piped up impatiently having not heard any inkling of a gunshot, “What’s taking so long?”

Amelie ignored her companion and watched as the scowl ran away from her target’s face and was replaced with a goofy grin. The woman set the photo down, cracked her knuckles, and went right back to working. Type, scroll up, scroll down, delete and retype, rinse and repeat...

For the first time in her ‘career’, Amelie couldn’t bring herself to the kill. The small interaction twinged her heart and she nearly threw her rifle down to tell Sombra to send the money back.

But… 

A job was a job. And her client had offered over a quarter million; ten times what Olivia and she got for any other job. She couldn’t afford to pass up such an opportunity.

So she angled her gun, held her breath again, and took the shot.

Pharah flew backwards, clutching her eye with a silent shout as blood burst from her head and seeped down her cheek and between her fingers. Amelie pulled away from her gun almost immediately and phoned Sombra, not really confirming if she was dead or not. This was her first kill she purposefully left to live and the sight of Pharah writhing on the floor sickened her.

“Target was dead before she even hit the ground,” Amelie informed morosely before fleeing the scene…

\---

Lena breathes in slowly through her nose and closes her eyes, processing the information Amelie had just told her. Her heart stutters at the thought of a small, small sliver of hope that her friend may be alive, just lost somewhere in the world in hiding until it was safe to re-emerge. She opens her mouth to speak but when she looks up, her blood runs cold. Jesse was standing behind Amelie, pressing the tip of his revolver to the back of her head. 

“Believe what you want, pumpkin,” he says to Lena gruffly, cocking his gun with a pronounced _click_ ,”I ain’t takin’ an ounce of this killer’s word.”

“Jesse!” Lena cries almost furiously and stands to swipe the gun from him. But he shoves her away and she tumbles and falls over on her ass.

“Look, I don’t have any idea what your plan is, assassin, but I ain’t letting you out of here alive. Your wild goose chase ends here.”

Amelie can’t quite decide if it was a defense mechanism or if she was just too exhausted to give a single damn, but she laughs, loud and proud. Slowly, she turns around so that the cold metal presses itself between her brows. Golden irises stare down the barrel and into Jesse’s soul, challenging him to _take the shot_.

“Go on, cowboy,” she goads, waving an arm to the sofa and carpet below it, “I heard laundry detergent helps remove blood stains out of carpet so long as it’s _fresh_.”

Jesse scowls, “Enough of this shit--”

But before her could pull the trigger, he suddenly feels a sharp but hard swat to his ass and he swivels around to look at the perpetrator. Lena confidently stood her ground with a flip flop in hand, Mei and Reinhardt behind her with raised brows. 

“Jesse, would you just listen to me!” Lena demands and tears the gun from him, “Sure, she tried killing Fareeha, but she tried to spare her too! And she’s here now helping me find her.

“And you!” she says facing Amelie, who looks up at her owlishly, before Lena sharply flicks her forehead, “I expected better.”

Jesse rubs his now sore buttock but doggedly keeps his glower, “Now just you wait. She’s an assassin, Lena; they’re as slippery as they come, especially the _Widowmaker_.”

“But she’s stuck with me this far, Jesse. She didn’t even know Fareeha’s real name!”

“An’ what’s your justification for her other ‘jobs’?” he asks, “What about the others she’s killed for her ‘job’?.”

“You ain’t exactly the good guys either!” she shouts, and Jesse takes a step back as if she had just poked at a fresh wound, “What about Reyes? What about Jack? What about--”

“Enough,” Reinhardt all but shouts and Lena finds herself biting hard enough on her lip to draw blood. With the authority of a grandfather, Reinhardt stands from his seat and gestures at one of them to take it, “Enough with the shouting. I never want to hear old friends fighting and arguing. Ethics this, morals that; we are all flawed. There is not a single person in this room that doesn’t deserve to be in prison.”

As he marches into the kitchen to retrieve refreshments for them, Lena plops herself down next to Amelie and Jesse in Reinhardt’s seat, the tension between them as thick as a Mexican standoff. When he returns with a silver tray, so does his smile. 

“Now, we can talk about this properly,” he starts, handing a mug to Mei first, “Have you spoken to Angela, Fareeha’s wife?”

Lena holds back a flinch and shakes her head, “Lass has as much of a clue on Fareeha as I do. I’ve been flying solo until I kind of hired Ame -- Widowmaker.”

“Rich,” Jesse murmurs sarcastically as he adjusts his hat, “Square one then, I reckon?”

“Maybe not,” Mei pipes up and pick up the photo and points at the woman next to Fareeha, “Isn’t this woman her mother?”

Reinhardt grunts an affirmation. “Ana was actually a part of Overwatch for years. But she had quietly ‘retired’ about a year ago. But now that you mention it… Her timeline and Fareeha’s are a little too similar.”

“She didn’t tell you anything about where she was going?”

“No,” he says, “But I have an idea: Egypt.”

“Why there?”

“Fareeha was born there,” Lena answers for, realization hitting her head-on like a bus, “Oh, now I wish we had gone there first, airfare isn’t exactly cheap...”

“But where? We can’t possibly scale the entire country until we just so happen to run into her,” says Amelie. 

Lena’s demeanor suddenly falls so quickly that Amelie almost apologizes for bringing it up. But her eyes trail to the stern stare of Mei, who’s sitting next to her. 

“Unless there’s something we aren’t aware of..?” Mei says. Amelie follows her gaze to the aloof cowboy glaring at them. Lena’s eyes follow Mei’s as well and she watches as Jesse’s jaw tightens and his brows narrow. 

Lena stands and walks over to him to tip the brim of his hat upwards so she could see his eyes. 

“Jesse, please,” Lena begs, “We’re so close and I know I’m in no position to be asking for any favors right now, but, please, for me _and_ Fareeha. What do you know?”

There’s a pregnant pause, and Lena can feel that sliver of hope slip between her fingers as Jesse reaches up to fix his hat back over his eyes.

But as if he had a sudden change of heart, he murmurs something inaudible. 

“What… Was that?”

“Cairo.” he says again, a little louder. 

“Cairo, Egypt?” Lena asks.

“‘S where Ana's from and Fareeha grew up. Wouldn’t doubt that’s where they ended up; home’s familiar and is as good of a hideout as any old foxhole,” he walks over and reaches for the photograph from Reinhardt and points at Ana, “Hell, I'd be willing to bet my boots and hat for that.”

Like a weight had been lifted off her chest, Lena breathes deeply and pulls the man in for a hug. He huffs, annoyed, but smiles down at her, ruffling her faux hawk affectionately.

“Thank you, Jesse.”

“Don’t start with that shit, you just make sure you bring her home,” he pulls away and points an accusatory finger at Amelie, “An’ you make sure you call me if she gives you a hard time.”

Amelie rolls her eyes at him as Lena giggles fondly. 

“Yessir!” 

\---

Amelie wasn’t a experienced professional manhunter by any stretch of the imagination. Which is why it was almost always Olivia bending over backwards finding contracts for them where Amelie was the one getting her hands dirty, taking lives by the dozen for more black market money she couldn’t have ever imagined. 

But now with Lena taking her on a wild goose chase and revitalizing and creating contacts, Amelie might have learned a thing or two about manhunting. 

One thing was that it was never easy and two, perseverance was key. 

Lena had thanked Overwatch for their aid, and while Reinhardt insisted they could stay, Lena politely declined, having wanted to find Fareeha as soon as possible and booked the next flight to Cairo. She had Jesse take the three of them to hangar where Junkrat had demanded they land the plane. Unfortunately, their loan on the plane was long overdue, according to Mei, but she would be more than happy to fund their flight to Cairo and their flights ‘home’, whatever that would mean to the two of them at the time.

Lena gave long, heartfelt goodbyes, all while Amelie hung back awkwardly. Even after weeks of staying glued to Lena by their hips, she still was unsure of their relationship. Amelie had had a knife pressed to Lena’s throat just about two weeks ago, and Lena had nearly broken her face not long after that when she had tried to kiss her. Not to mention the number of times Amelie could count on two hands just how many times they had saved each other’s lives. 

It definitely meant something to her, but to Lena? Fuck if Amelie knew in the slightest. For the first time in her life, Amelie was afraid of something.

After Mei had bought them the tickets for tomorrow, Jesse drove them towards Avalon Airport and scaled the local area to land the pair in a decent hotel. Once Jesse got them set up, he handed Lena the keys, exchanged wary stares with Amelie, before climbing into his dirty pick up and headed back South. 

“Your friends are nice,” Amelie says dryly when they enter their room two floors up. Lena doesn’t say anything until she all but sinks into the cushions of the sofa inside. 

“Oh sod off it, they’re great once you get to know them,” Lena gives her a quick non-judgemental once over, noticing for the first time how built Amelie’s arms were after years of lugging around that huge sniper rifle, “And if you just so happen to _not_ be a serial killer.”

Amelie’s expression sours and Lena giggles, waving her in for an apologetic hug. 

“Oh, alright, you aren’t a serial killer,” Lena says as Amelie awkwardly seats herself on a spot next to Lena’s legs on the edge of the couch. Lena reaches for a remote on the coffee table and flicks on the T.V and they settle into the silence save for the quiet murmur of weekday television.

“So…” Amelie starts off uneasily, “You fly planes?”

Lena might have snickered at her tone but Amelie’s blush and pursed lips caused Lena to bite back the grin forming on her lips.

“Always was into them. Was part of the RAF I was!” Lena says proudly, chest puffed out with a toothy grin. But it falters slightly when she continues, “I… Was honorably discharged and I ended up in the hospital, left my mum and I chest deep in debt. I swore I would get us out of it and, long story short, I found and worked with Mei. Got the debt paid off in less than two years and I was so good at flying in and out without getting caught, I just kept doing it. Mei got me my own plane and everything, even a place to stay in just about any part of the world, how could I ever leave?”

Lena nudges Amelie with a toe, “And you? You always worked with guns or d’you have some sorta’ gun kink?”

Amelie snorts and shoulders her foot away with a huff, “ _Non_ , I’ve just always had a -- how do you say -- _knack_ for rifles. It’s only natural to graduate from a Sako Finnlight to a Dragonuv.”

“I’ll pretend I know what that means,” Lena says wryly, which Amelie chuckles at.

“I had always been into hunting, mainly for sport. It was a hobby my grandfather shared to my father, who shared it with me when he learned that his daughter had the best marksmanship in the entire village,” Amelie smiles fondly, “He had always said that I inherited the ‘Guillard trigger finger.’”

“That’s… Cute…” Lena mumbles wryly.

“Hm, yes, I suppose.”

“How’d you go from sport to… Y’know, people?” 

Amelie almost spoke but hesitated. She had been betrayed more than once in the past and here she was, yet again, giving out classified information like Lena wouldn’t turn her in in a heartbeat. Noticing her apprehension, Lena poked her side with the tip of her toe, causing Amelie to jerk upright and scowling at Lena.

“You don’t have to tell me, love,” Lena says cheekily as Amelie leans over to swipe at her dumb grin, “It’s another story for another day, deal?”

Amelie, not expecting Lena’s generosity, stills above her and looks down at her dumbfoundedly, hands planted above her shoulders. Lena looks up, those hazel eyes sparkling, as Amelie’s wild mane falls like a curtain next to face and tickles her cheek. 

There’s a moment in that instant that suddenly seizes Lena’s heart in its passionate grip. With a mind of its own, Lena’s hand comes up to hold Amelie’s cheek and Amelie stiffens against it, before leaning gently into her palm. 

Lena’s heart stutters at the action and a blush flourishes across her cheeks. 

“F-F-Fancy a snog, l-love?” Lena squeaks nervously. Amelie giggles in the most unladylike manner, full of snorts and guffaws. Slowly, tentatively, shyly, Lena joins her, with a grin that could split her face into two.

“Perhaps I do, but will you live to see the end of it?” Amelie asks softly, lips now barely brushing against hers, still hesitant because the last time she was this close to Lena’s face, she got a black eye and bruised ego. Lena steals a sidelong glance at the T.V screen and groans audibly. 

“It’s already midnight, and our flight’s in just about 6 hours. Wouldn’t you rather sleep?”

“What would you prefer?” Amelie asks quietly.

“To be here,” Lena blurts out, arms slinking down to hold her hips, “I mean, I don’t know. Just… This moment, it’s really nice. Just don’t move.”

Amelie breathes a laugh through her nose at the odd request and lets her weight settle on top of Lena. She leisurely lays her head on her shoulder and Lena adjusts underneath her for her sake.

“Comfy?”

“Mmm.”

“‘S good…”

Lena listens as Amelie’s breathing evens out, growing deeper and deeper each passing minute. The T.V flickers, some news anchor droning on about the weather for the week, and outside, cars drive by almost inaudibly. 

Lena lets her eyes close, trying to savor the moment as long as she can, before, eventually, succumbing to her exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A confession is a statement – made by a person or by a group of persons – acknowledging some personal fact that the person (or the group) would ostensibly prefer to keep hidden. The term presumes that the speaker is providing information that he believes the other party is not already aware of,[1] and is frequently associated with an admission of a moral or legal wrong...[However] Not all confessions reveal wrongdoing, however. For example, a confession of love is often considered positive both by the confessor and by the recipient of the confession, and is a common theme in literature.[3][4]”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @wolf1Ez
> 
> ...looking for beta readers...hmu...


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